The tablet turns on before things get weird, so Taxon gets a quick upshot glance at the bare midriff exposed at Gwen's hip, underneath her heavy pea coat. There's some shuffling, so it's clear she's on the move. And then all movement stops.
Gwen hears a voice, smooth and low...and barely perceptible. But it's there, like a whisper coming from
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"If you are referring to what appears to be the shades of the deceased in attendance, then no, Miss Raiden, I do not believe you are going mad. Or if you are, it is all communal."
Long's voice sounds a bit tired, but then, it's been a heck of a few weeks for everyone.
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"Glad to hear it. Not that it makes it any less creepy."
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"Are you quite alright?"
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"Six. It's just...how did they even...?"
Another sigh.
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"While I am sure it is cold comfort, we are all equally subject to these, how shall we say, violations of our privacies."
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"Thanks," she says, in a softer tone. "Maybe we'll get those bastards back one day."
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"In the meantime we do what we can to amuse and console ourselves."
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"Merry Christmas to us," she says, dryly.
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"Merry, that is one word for it. Do come by the library sometime for tea, Miss Raiden. We will browse cookbooks."
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Yes, she could. Especially if that meet-and-greet entailed ways of screwing over their captors. "That sounds like a date, Mr Long."
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"Until I see you then, Miss Raiden."
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