There's a familiar-looking man in the bar today. You might recognise him, but you'd be forgiven if you didn't. He's a little older, has a bit more facial hair than before and...
Wait. Is that a chicken?
Yep. Chandler's over by the fire, holding a small, yellow chick in his hands. A small, yellow chick that is also quite damp.
Cheep! Cheep! Cheep
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It makes him oddly homesick, even though he's not sure he wants to be back home.
"What happened to the poor thing?" he asks.
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It takes him a moment, but he does remember Lucas.
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"Awww, you've had it rough, haven't you, sweetie?" he says, gently stroking the damp chick.
"When did you get the chick? I remember you didn't have any animals when we talked about the sheep at home."
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In his tiny little apartment. Oh, this is going to be fun.
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"Did Mister Joey get the chick and the duck mixed up?"
It's the only possible explanation he's got for this.
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