Despite the most recent blow to his mental health, Geoffrey feels ready for this. He feels more than ready for this, in fact. It's been too long since the last one, and he's itching to direct again. And so before anything can happen to put it off again, he writes up a notice and tacks it up on the bulletin board.
William Shakespeare's
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But he still knew how to shower.
Finishing off his braid and letting it drop to swing just past the small of his back- it wasn't getting like visibly longer, but it was kinda getting a little longer, it seemed- still damp but at least free of leaves and twigs and crap, he pulled up short and backpedaled to look at what the councilman-director guy was posting. Duo'd seen them all, heck, loved them all. He and Polly had always ( ... )
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"It was pretty awesome."
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He looked over the notice some more.
"I know Duck's your boy, but if you need anything else built, I can do that too. I'm Duo, by the way," he said, offering his hand.
"We've both been here for like fucking forever but it's probably been like a year or something since we were introduced at a goat party or whatever."
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"Well, you're right, that's definitely Duck's department," says Geoffrey, "but he might need some extra hands. And don't worry, you're pretty memorable and I'm not old enough to start forgetting yet."
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"Awe! If I wasn't jaded beyond the point of being capable of embarrassment, you'd just about make me blush."
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"I never thought I deserved it," he murmured, then shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets, back to grinning, with a vaguely shit-eating edge.
"Guess I'm not one of the few people immune to my own charms!"
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