[The journals suddenly start recording rather odd noises; it starts with the catchy country-style LP of 'Jesus is the Telephone Repairman on the switchboard of my life'1, and is joined rather soon afterwards by a surprised sounding English voice.]
Well... I say, Miss Dalma!
[A woman's voice follows shortly after, her tone a mix of fascination
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[DON'T JUMP TO CONCLUSIONS, DON'T JUMP TO CONCLUSIONS, DON'T JUMP TO CONCLUSIONS]
What are you two doing over there?
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Mr. Pulsifer, is that you?
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...You're not, er, mingling with someone else, if you catch my drift?
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[He sounds rather affronted at that; just because he was an angel and God was around, didn't mean he couldn't have a life outside his duties. Honestly, some people.]
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About what?
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About your happy ending.
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...thank you?
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Excuse me, miss?
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--ah no, I'm afraid my journal must have fallen open when the settee got disturbed.
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