*A small spaceship that appears to be made out of cardboard flies into the room. It lands upright on a chair, and the front opens to allow what appears to be a foot-high astronaut out.* I told them I could get that hovercraft motor to work.
(
Buzz Lightyear to Star Command, come in Star Command... )
"Assuming I don't have a hole in my bag of marbles, did, ah... did you say something about dealing with arguments?"
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I can, if the need arises - I've had to often enough. I'm not exactly a psychologist, but...
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Fraser crouched. "You see, I... well, normally, I try to be polite as possible, and I strive to be tolerant and respectful of those I work with. Now, I've been working with this partner for the last two years, and I understand that arguments will arise, of course they will, but our circumstances... changed, recently, and..." He sighed. "Well, now we can't seem to stop arguing."
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Maybe you just need a break from each other. You've probably just spent too much time around each other, so you're starting to get on each other's nerves.
Saving each other's life generally helps, but it's not the sort of thing you want to have to do on a regular basis. Especially if you're friends.
... Wait, what sort of "change in circumstances"?
*Buzz decides not to mention that, if Fraser didn't expect to be shot, then his friend probably didn't know it was him. He's probably already been told. Several times.*
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Here, he hesitated. He really couldn't lie, not even to a toy man, but it could be risky to let it get out that Ray was actually staying in his room. "I suppose," he said slowly, "that you might say we're spending far more leisure time together and less time, as you put it, saving each other's lives."
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"As for Sorting you," he went on, because after all he did have a job to do here, "I believe you would do quite well in my own house -- Gryffindor, that is -- if that's all right with you?"
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Gryffindor would be fine, thanks.
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