May 29, 2010 15:24
The communications system flickers on and displays a man wearing a drab, dusty taglemust but with a recognizable sword buckled at his hip. After a moment of surprise, he skims over a few notes on his tablet before unveiling his face to speak: "My alternate has left notes for me to read, but I would prefer a more reliable source of information."
{ godric,
{ uther doul,
{ nazca barsavi,
{ the doctor (tenth)
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"Where?" Name the place, Doul.
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Godric arrives in promptly an hour, sitting down at the cafe. He orders a bowl of fruit and a water, which should be the first indication that something is very different from normal.
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Or, to translate, 'how's breathing treating you?'
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"I'm relatively well. Better than I was, recently." Physically, he's well, and well-adapted to being human, though he's had little enough time to do it. But he's weary in his soul, and in some small ways, it shows more prominently on his human features than it had on his vampire ones. He hasn't done much but sleep off the exhaustion of torture for the past few days, but he still looks tired.
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"Have you read the notes at all?" He wants to know how much Doul might know of what has transpired, before laying it all out there.
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"I have. He was very thorough, but biased."
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"Biased in what manner?" He takes a bite of his fruit salad, enjoying the grapes especially.
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He had been less hardened, less sure than Doul, though Godric doesn't want to put it in so many words.
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