Okay.
I just walked in on Peter. 'What was he doing?', you may ask. OR you may say 'Idon'twanttoknow!' But trust me. Oh you do.
He was air guitaring. To Spectre. Peter. Was playing the air guitar. Along with my gorgeous Spectre's album. And he was singing along and dancing. And I died (again, I totally know what it feels like) of cute
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Flynn said you told him to get a journal! Uncle Thomas! What if he sees that I said he has a nice arse!?
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I thought it might make him feel more connected. Besides, I already told him he had a nice arse. Because his arse reminds me of Spectre's arse. And he just looked at me like I was crazy and then he laughed and changed the subject. So I think you'll be fine!
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Hah! Spectre DOES have a nice arse!
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Oh, Julian. The wonder that is my Spectre's arse. I should probably not talk about here. But mmm!
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I didn't mean like...sexy ropes. Grargh. You probably didn't even GO there. I blame being injured and helpless!
I'll just take your 'mmm' for it then!
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I blame you, Munchkin.
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