[ When the sound clicks on it's nothing but a bit of scraping (like gravel against metal), followed by a long stretch of silence. Eventually there's ragged breathing as the microphone is brought close to Nigel's mouth. There's the audible chatter of teeth, but when Nigel speaks, his voice is (for the most part) even. The tone is a bit distant,
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...twelve?
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Alex.
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Two-thousand-ten. About a week, like you said.
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One week. Not even.
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Yes. But you haven't missed much. Things have been quiet. The house should be exactly the way it was when you left.
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Have you been busy without me?
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No. I've mostly been bored, to be honest. Are you going to need medical attention? From what I see, that might be hard to explain.
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Even if I get hypothermia. It won't last. Not anymore. [ He heaves a few exhales, his breath wisping from his mouth like smoke. ] When the doctor is done with her tests, we can do something. Together. If you'd like.
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No. You are going to tell me what you want us to do, Jack. And then. You and I are going to do it.
That is the way things work.
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That's what I'm going to do, is it?
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Yes.
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He looks away and rubs at his collar again, perhaps in the hopes that it will make him feel better. Some sort of comfort. Stupid, really.
Nigel nods. ]
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