[Accidental Video!]
[A boy, small for his age, stares around with wide eyes. He looks at the fountain; his look concentrates, and after a moment, dissolves into confusion. He turns back, toward a highly irritated horse, with a truly bizarre creature (obviously a baby - and for those that would know, a griffin!) straddled over his saddle. "Where?"
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...do you need some help stopping that thing?
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Is this a telephone?
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He's not a thing. Syracuse is a horse.
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...a rather big horse. Not to worry, I know just the person to handle him!
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He's small for a horse.
[Sounding a bit skeptical of this voice. This voice must be a bit dumb.]
Tell him to bring peppermints.
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Well, I'm sure that's not what anyone he stampedes over will think.
[this voice is a bit too confident.]
Peppermints, of course. At the fountain, isn't it?
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[That is some familiar sarcasm.]
Syracuse wouldn't do that.
He's farther now.
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[Dear God, someone worse than Grant at getting his sarcasm.]
Yes, but you're still there, aren't you? We'd better take you along - horses react better to people they're used to, don't they?
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I guess so. Syracuse likes some people he doesn't know, and dislikes some he knows.
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Ah, there you are! Excellent. Now, to follow Syrup.
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