[The room is dark, as befitting the middle of the night. The soft sounds of sleeping Pokémon can be heard, undisturbed. A shadow that appears to be an Eevee can be seen sleeping on a pillow at the head of the bed. Cecil is in the middle of it, sitting up, his skin so pale it almost glows. The sheets around him are rumpled, twisted by an uneasy
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Y-You don't have to, but if you have the desire, you can talk to me. Sometimes telling others about your past helps.
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...I might be turning thirty-eight today.
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