Layla had found herself suddenly grateful for her excess of time on the island. It allowed her, two days before the fact, to pull together a fairly elaborate mystery starting with an unsigned missive in a mail box in the morning. It lead the protagonist on a lengthy trail across the island's various locals, forced said protagonist to interact with
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Plus, Layla was hot, and far be it from him to say no to a hot chick.
He'd brought a shirt as a present; it was the closest thing to fucking tolerable that the clothes box would give him. Brodie was mostly hoping the guy wouldn't get all serious about it and would appreciate it. Either he would and they'd both have a good laugh about it, or he wouldn't and he'd have ANOTHER comic book idol fucking pissed at him. Only, this time it'd be less SNIKT SNIKT MOTHERFUCKER and more EXPLODING PEOPLE FROM THE GODDAMN INSIDE.
Or maybe he'd just be all whiny and bearded and monologuing at him. Sometimes, it was hard to tell.
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Nontraditional island circumstances aside, some customs were fucking NECESSARY. It's not like there was a gift table or anything.
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"Alright, alright," He groaned, then handed the bundle over. "Happy birthday."
Though with the fucking sliding timelines, he didn't know which one it actually WAS.
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"That's priceless. I mean, even barring the no economy thing, that's still priceless."
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