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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...It would probably be a three minute apology, yes.
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Something about her body and covering up her death. Which might explain why she woke up with a sombrero, in the dorms, with a very stiff neck.
"... So ..."
This would be good.
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"Hi. Nice to actually meet you," Zayne said. "Sorry about everything last weekend."
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"I'm not ... actually mad," she said, carefully. "I mean, I was a paid prostitute for my own campaign once, so I know this island likes to turn people crazy for its own personal shits and giggles. But can I ask what exactly happened? I don't remember any of it."
For obvious reasons, those being, that she was dead.
"Did you kill me?"
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"Okay," she said. "Accidental death, and you took the body out of the elevator shaft. Probably had to, anyway, so you could continue to use the elevator."
Death happened, and none of them had been themselves, anyway. That much she could understand The rest ...
"Why did I ... wake up in the dorms, wearing a sombrero?"
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Okay, she no longer wanted to know.
"Thank you for telling me," she decided, just as the chime went off. "This fucking island."
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The first of which being the one where she was dead. Yeah.
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One of the aspects of the weekend that didn't make her wtf, for some reason.
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