A sign was posted at the front door:
G.O.B. Bluth Presents:
Three Minute Dates at Caritas
hosted by A Matchmaker Named G.O.B.
That's right. It was time for Three Minute Dates once again. Of course, this time it was being pushed back a couple hours because GOB just posted bail in Lexington Park for solicitation last night so it could better help
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Feel free to get sloshed before 8:00!
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Still, once Billionaire Playboy Bruce Wayne entered an event, he was going to stick around for it, appearing to drink. Tino was going to get a good tip to keep the ginger ale flowing.
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"You seem like the dating type," Chuck noted, as he took a stool near Bruce. "You don't happen to have any foolproof advice, do you?" It was worth asking. All he'd got before was 'be yourself', but himself was a flaily nerd and that wasn't generally a hit with the ladiez.
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'Be yourself' was good advice, too, but Bruce had no business giving it.
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"I did this once before, and it didn't end in tears. Mine or anyone else's. Which is a positive."
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"I should be able to find a card before tomorrow, too."
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She approached Bruce hesitantly, then bowed her head respectfully.
"I owe you quite the apology," she said. "One I haven't the words to begin."
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And, well, the poisoning had been kind of worth it considering what came before it. Ahem.
[Sorry! I missed this notification!]
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Unable to resist her curiosity, she added, "Have you a resistance to la cantarella, or did I administer it improperly?"
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