[The communicator's screen comes to life on purpose, for once it seems. Duibhín can be seen at the table, brushing out his hair carefully. One stroke, two, probably all the way to a hundred, if his normal vanity says anything. He's quiet, his attention elsewhere, eerily reminiscent of a night when he was kidnapped, but thankfully with the daylight
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Amazing to see such changes so fast. For the better?
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