[It's around seven in the morning. Cheery, maybe a little dull morning, but the sun is up and Jack's nursing a cup of coffee at some café like he hasn't been missing a week. Two weeks. Whatever.]
God damn it.
[He hisses softly, pinching the bridge of his nose.]Haven't changed much, Siren's Port. A little bit more rainy, though. Anyone know how to
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...Jack.
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Will you believe me if I say yes?
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How are you?
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But I think it'd be appreciated by some if you visited for tea sometime. Let me know in advance when I'm not sleeping all day, though.
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What do you mean?
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[feed cut!]
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Good morning, Mr. Vessalius.
A mixture of ice and salt, in proportion of one to one-half. Tie it up in a small linen cloth, making something like a pad, and apply it to your forehead as near to the seat of pain as possible.
[His tone is borderline smug bitch, because Claude's had to change the locks every morning for Alois in response to Jack's disappearance. The spiders aren't armed to be dangerous, but they won't be letting Jack inside via webs and things until Alois gives the go-ahead.]
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How fast will it work?
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That depends on how strongly you believe it will work.
[Good old placebo effect. Haha.]
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[A muffled groan, and he leans back.]
Well, can you tell me what happened in the past two weeks? Your master isn't forthcoming with the details.
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Did something bad happen?
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You can tell?
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