[Twenty minutes later, he's knocking softly. He might smell very overly strongly of bleach - but he's not wearing anything white. He also has a leather rucksack over his shoulder.]
[It takes her a few extra seconds, but she gets to her feet and meanders to the door to answer him. She's not dressed normally, but in stupid pajamas and a cheap robe that's wrapped too-tightly around herself. She's cold for the first time since September.]
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[How drunk are you, in other words.]
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-Oh, come on. I'm not that drunk!
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Should I ask?
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Do you want company for a while? Chess is my preferred game but I have others.
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But I won't step afoot out tonight, I promise. I'll see you in twenty.
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[She's drunk and doesn't know how to brain this, Magneto, so she'll just agree and hope everything magically works out.]
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Hi, Michael.
Why do you smell like bleach?
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[He waits until she lets him in before swinging the bag off his shoulder.]
When did you eat last?
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[But she lets him in anyway because. Whatever. And starts walking towards a chair or something.]
Um... breakfast? I had a sandwich. There weren't any cult leaders on it.
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