I'm more concerned with his now having legal grounds to have you arrested for harrassment, and forced into therapy for your apparent sociopathy. You're not my patient, darling, but I might suggest you refrain from the mutilated animals, for the sake of your friends not having to post bail.
I've had worse than Harrison Tweed in my office, dear, though he does prove particularly stressful. A drop of brandy in my tea does the trick well enough.
What the fuck ever, he started in on ME. I was just minding my own FUCKING BUSINESS, laughing on the sidelines, and he had the fucking NERVE to start in on my intelligence.
I'd need the whole fucking liquor cabinet just to keep from slicing him.
It's the way of certain people, I'm afraid, to resort to arguments of intellectual prowess when they haven't anything else to say. To be fair, I'm sure you've picked apart every insult he's tried to hurl at you, so I'm not entirely sure what else he has left to fall back upon.
Probably fucking crying to the librarians, I'd bet my fucking liver on it; pussies are so shitting predictable, never deal with anything by their fucking selves.
Yes, of course, darling, that's certainly one way to put it; though I wouldn't look so forward to his tears if they were accompanied by some sort of restraining order. Not that, I'm sure, Patricia will have much to say on the matter, but you never know.
Regardless what you did to warrant the beard the first time, you've now done something that, should they find even an iota of evidence to link it to you, will have you arrested, charged, and likely given to therapy for quite some time. And that's on top of Jacob employing those particularly efficient in curses and hexings to deal with you. Not all of the Tales are quite so scrupulous as our illustrious Head Librarian.
I'm more concerned with his now having legal grounds to have you arrested for harrassment, and forced into therapy for your apparent sociopathy. You're not my patient, darling, but I might suggest you refrain from the mutilated animals, for the sake of your friends not having to post bail.
I've had worse than Harrison Tweed in my office, dear, though he does prove particularly stressful. A drop of brandy in my tea does the trick well enough.
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I'd need the whole fucking liquor cabinet just to keep from slicing him.
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It's the way of certain people, I'm afraid, to resort to arguments of intellectual prowess when they haven't anything else to say. To be fair, I'm sure you've picked apart every insult he's tried to hurl at you, so I'm not entirely sure what else he has left to fall back upon.
It's a very large bottle, dear.
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Yes, of course, darling, that's certainly one way to put it; though I wouldn't look so forward to his tears if they were accompanied by some sort of restraining order. Not that, I'm sure, Patricia will have much to say on the matter, but you never know.
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Somehow, I'm unsure whether that would actually deter you.
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[after a pause]
There are other ways the Atheneum has of dealing with these sorts of things, you know.
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I was more alluding to the magic-users in his employ, dear.
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Regardless what you did to warrant the beard the first time, you've now done something that, should they find even an iota of evidence to link it to you, will have you arrested, charged, and likely given to therapy for quite some time. And that's on top of Jacob employing those particularly efficient in curses and hexings to deal with you. Not all of the Tales are quite so scrupulous as our illustrious Head Librarian.
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