Priestly's never been That Guy, the one who can get an entire club shut down for a private event. He's pretty sure he used to make fun of That Guy, actually. But somehow here on the island, well, he kind of is. That or other, more powerful, people think Brooke deserves as awesome a birthday party as he does
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Still, I'm not going to complain; there's still beer, and the one benefit of the healing factor being gone is that I don't have to constantly knock them back to get the full effect. Admittedly, there's also the downside that I can't just knock them back without consequence, but it's not like I can't handle myself.
Bit of a weird crowd, but that's actually the best thing about it. I'm a member of a lot of weird crowds.
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Either way, it'd be interesting.
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And maybe once I did I should have tracked her down, but I wasn't exactly eager to. Last time I was in some crazy alternate dimension and Layla Miller was involved, I ended up with all my memories back.
What I was searching for all that time, sure. But everyone knows what they say about what you wish for.
"You got taller," I say.
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She's got a tattoo you usually only get in concentration camps in the future, and I doubt she just went to a present-day parlour and got inked in solidarity.
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"You're all frowny."
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"I don't know why, I'm nothing if not helpful."
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"Not that it's helpful here."
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Would've been nice if she did have an angle on this place, as well, although nicer if she was the kind who shared.
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As for Wallace, he just steps up beside the guy, drink in hand, and casually remarks, "My roommate once headbutt a guy so hard he burst."
It seems like an appropriate opener.
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"Good for him," I grunt. "Should I care?"
Might as well check if he's trying to impress me, intimidate me, or is just in a real sharing kind of mood.
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