"I'm sure that- once upon a time- that was a nice outfit," comments the mostly formal suited blondie type, who has a totes affectionate smile and everything.
"Regular little spy kid, you are. Most I ever got to do was follow people around with a walkie talkie, I never got to break into high-security headquarters." No fair.
"Yeah, yeah. Rub it in, spy kid. I can be cool without a walkie talkie anyway." And he may just be refraining from pouting, because maturity in age doesn't mean maturity in mentality.
"They were forcing everyone to sell out. We were the last ones to go, and because everyone else in the neighborhood had sold Grandpa didn't have a choice. That's why I did it."
"I'm sure that- once upon a time- that was a nice outfit," comments the mostly formal suited blondie type, who has a totes affectionate smile and everything.
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"Hey, old Ryan."
It was a pretty snappy suit, at one point, but he lost the jacket somewhere. Oh well.
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"Hey, young Arnold. You're looking worse than usual. What happened?"
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"A lot of stuff," he says evasively.
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"How do you even manage any of that?"
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"Gerald knows a guy who knows a girl, and she hooked us up with some equipment." Like the fancy suit and utility belt he's wearing right now.
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"Any reason for the break in?"
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