Claude is listening to Sheila. Or, at least, he thinks he is. She's speaking, he hears the words, he responds - but whether or not he's really listening is questionable. He watches her move around, rallying the troops as only she can, falling to her knees and slapping the ground. Stepping up beside her, Claude falls, too. Watching Sheila, he
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Scherehazade blinks, gasps, and straightens up. Her voice is quiet, a bit soothing, heavily accented, if singing.
"Welcome to the Ship," she offers with a graceful greeting. Hopefully her robes won't look too foreign to a hippy.
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"Uh. Thanks." He's going to have to talk to Berger when this is done.
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"Crying? Did she say why?" It worries him that Sheila might be upset and he isn't there to comfort her.
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... applause. That was epic typo of epic.
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"Thanks for the heads up."
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"No, I -- well, I would not know, but I wish it on you all the same."
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