[Talk about shitty timing for a flood. With things as rocky as they were with Perry, now was so not the time for the Admiral to throw another inmate at him. Arthur looked at his item, checking it for the, what, hundredth time, as he followed his instinct (or flood-mandated yearning for closeness) all the way to Alice Morgan. He'd seen her around
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Five feet was not a long way: she could hear Arthur's breathing. It didn't have the deep evenness of sleep to it.]
If it's any consolation, I doubt anyone is sleeping much tonight,
[OOC: III hope a second, later thread is okay. :C You weren't around to ask. I wept.]
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Yeah. [He chuckled softly, rubbing his eyes.] But at least we don't have to worry about the other pulling a knife or a gun or a... pillow, or something. [OR DID THEY?]
I was never any good at sleepovers. [Although, technically, his entire line of work was a giant slumber party.]
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Do you dream much, Arthur?
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And that would certainly be the case if you worked while you slept, but I think it would be more accurate to say that you sleep when you work.
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I don't think I've ever been accused of sleeping on the job before.
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Was it the Baudelaire? [That poem was the most public hint he could think of that was even on the network.]
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