It was the first thing Teru had done in - too long. Months. He'd told himself that nothing was wrong, that in a school full of demonic psychopaths it was only sensible to keep to himself. But that wasn't why he isolated himself, and he knew it
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"SACK JOE," boomed Beowulf, holding out his brawny arms in hopes of a buttery embrace. "HOW FARE YOU IN THESE CHILL AND DWINDLING DAYS?"
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He called a house elf.
"ELF, BRING TO SACK JOE A BOWL OF THE FINEST GRANOLA! HE HAS SORE NEED OF ITS RESTORATIVE POWERS!"
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Admittedly, the granola had got him through nine days living in the forest last year, but he wasn't going to encourage Beowulf.
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Was that a look of frustrated tenderness on the Geat's hard face, or was he experiencing some species of indigestion?
The elf had reappeared with a whole sack of granola as well as a bowl; Beowulf grabbed the sack and thrust it toward Mikami. "YOU SHOULD EAT!"
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