[The feed begins accidentally, bumped by the snuffling wet nose of the usual culprit combing Harry's floor for stray food. Harry's feet are in the frame, one of them swinging in time to a nice baritone rendition of Auld Lang Syne.
Harry pauses at the end of the song, getting up to walk a little tipsily over to the door, and peer out into the suite]
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[He frowns up at the universe]
Y'hear that? you're on your own.
[sorry, he may be slightly drunk.]
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[You get all the confused squinting, Harry.]
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Harry Dresden. What was your name again?
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I knew I recognized you! Mine's Hong Meiling.
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What've you been up to?
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I need a word with you when you have a moment. A not intoxicated moment.
No rush,
Veritas
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Haven't been called that in a long time.
Afraid this is an extremely intoxicated moment. The first available non-intoxicated moment might well be tomorrow morning. Or rather later today, given the circumstances.
Tomorrow, early, biodome? Experiment makes it difficult to recognize people. Look for the light, Veritas.
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Contact me on this channel tomorrow. It's safe. We can arrange something then.
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[Wayne and Garth move sideways through the thread waving their hands and going "doodly doop".
Then, Morning happens. A thematically appropriate rooster crows, and Harry grabs his 'berry, gripped in equal parts by curiosity and the theory that headsplitting hangovers go away if stubbornly ignored hard enough]
Veritas? you asked me to contact you on this line.
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1863. Or, it was, I guess.
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