[On the screen is a little blond boy in expensive velvet. He's clearly an aristocrat wherever he's from; pale and slightly delicate, with a well-shaped nose and cheekbones. In a few years the war will change everything, but for now it's doubtful he can even lift a sword
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[CREEPAN]
[Rich is watching you, swanky-kid. He's not sure why he wants to hit you with a snowball but his instincts are seldom wrong.]
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[He flicks his little hands - shoo.]
Adult talk.
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FURTHER CREEPAN IS REQUIRED TO FIND THIS KID IN REAL LIFE]
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At the least, he doesn't think there's anyone left with enough of a grudge to try to kill a child. Maybe Lestat. He's armed, at least that's something.]
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He pockets the starship, though, and checks out the kid's destination. He can reach here with a non-melted snowball in time.]
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He's not looking around, though.]
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...his escape would have been a lot easier if he could keep from yelling "BOOSH!" when the snowball landed, though.
:/]
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He snarled and rounded on the source of the snowball.]
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But frankly if they're just going to put him in another government home and not even tel him? They should expect him to act out.
He ducks under a table, peering out cautiously.]
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What?
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Seemed like a good idea at the time. [He stick out his chin. It fails to make him look tough.]
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[Crossed arms. RICH DOESN'T THINK YOU'RE IN CHARGE, SWANKY KID]
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Make me.
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I'm not doing this, you're eight.
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