[There's the crackling of audio, fuzzy noise, and the Guide turns on to something that's supposed to be a conversation between a few individuals. There's very little context for the back-and-forth that's being broadcasted now:]
...And it's been six months! Six months! Can you believe it?
I see. And he hasn't made the offer of living together as
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I may be misinterpreting the requirements regarding our occupation.
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Have an amused snort.]
I believe mentioning your patience will one day be the end of you.
[Nicer way to phrase 'coming back to bite you in the ass'.]
What exactly were your intentions?
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I believe we were meant to advertise a matchmaking agency of sorts.
[A furrow of the brows.]
The Guide is prone to giving me jobs that I have no background in.
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Is that so...? But don't you agree he would be more suitable for a kinder, gentler job?
[ Like... petting ponies.... ]
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Idly browsing through the job listings, however, has given Noah an outlet for the wickedly cunning sense of humor known to all bored, intelligent folk who find themselves unable to go out and do things. Let's have some fun, shall we?]
"Hello? Could I possibly get some advice?"
[Noah's voice, serious, "honestly" curious and entirely innocent. Yep.]
"I just don't know what to do about my boyfriend. He's a wonderful chap, really, but I cannot help but feel that I'm just too old. That I can't adequately meet his 'expectations', if you know what I mean. Could you possibly help me?"
[He's very much in character, sprawled out with his hand resting on his knee like twirling a non-existent telephone cord, biting his bottom lip trying not to burst out ( ... )
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