[for the second time in a week, there is one (1) gilbert(ine) nightray on your screens. she looks - flustered, on her bed. she's panting, cheeks flushed red, hair dishevelled, frantic. the screen cuts off at her chest, and there's a knee somewhere there, raised leg and all.]
O-oh damn it -
Sir Dominic Sorel? Dominic - I-I need t-to speak to you
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[Are you okay? D:]
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[she's whining (just a little) because heaven knows what else she can do when faced with a little monster like that kitten - ]
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[mental screaming]
Cat!
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[Does she even know about Gilbert's phobia idk sob .___.]
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It's right there and -
[she shrieks, throwing her head back up against the keyboard; the kitten has decided trying to climb up the bed was a good exercise.]
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Would... Gilbert like Echo to get rid of the cat?
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[and to lend to Gilbert's credibility, the cat scampers off. the nerve of that little terror!]
Wait. It's...
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[she still looks shocked. oh good lord. there's a kitten loose in the mansion.]
Milk. Cats like milk, right?
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[... You probably don't care, do you.]
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Thanks, Echo. [determined huff.] I'll. I'll lure it before it does any damage, then.
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It will.
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Thanks again, Echo.
[click!]
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