[she frowns slightly, shifting to actually look at the Dreamberry where it was propped up, and tugs her sheets further up her body for modesty's sake.]
[well, she can believe that. Excuse her while she shifts, moving the Dreamberry enough to offer a great view of the wall. There's a tap, like a chess piece being set up, and then a second one after a moment as it clatters against the table. And then Ariadne slides back into the picture.]
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Yeah. I'm fine. Thanks.
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Ya sure? Don't hurt t'say otherwise, ya know. Dreams can be sonsabitches from hell around here.
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I've been through worse. This was just a dream.
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Well, if ya need a beer, or t'talk about it, holler, huh? Don't sit on the shit. Might actually hurt ya one'a these days.
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[But she cracks a smile regardless.] Sure. I'll remember that.
You sound like you're speaking from experience.
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Yeah. Might say that.
[Although he doesn't elaborate, and his normally gruff baritone falls quiet.]
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In my experience, the only dreams you can get hurt from are the ones you're actually caught in.
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Be glad you're not in my line of work.
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Right.
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Can I get a short version?
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