[ Oh dear. That's rather a grumpy face on the other end of the feed. It's the face of a telepath with a pounding headache - not nearly as bad as he would have imagined, given the circumstances, but still rather bothersome, all the same. There is a great deal of exasperation in his voice as he speaks, as if he's a parent reprimanding an errant child
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[Because that happened. The living clothes thing.]
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Clothes I can't help you on, but Advil I have.
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You do? In that case, Miss Sommers, you and I are now even. [ He smiles, broadly and easily. ] I provide the alcohol, you provide the painkillers.
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Jenna, please. I'm not old enough for last name lady status. [ jenna's grin in return is a little self-depreciating; she's the living cliche, deal with it. ] Sounds like a fair trade to me. That or a party.
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NOW.
SRSLY?
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PICS OR NVR HAPPENED.
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[ Just give him a moment; when he switches the video feed on, he is leaning in close, with a broad, wildly amused smile. A slight pause - and then he takes a few steps back. Fairly broad shoulders, toned and muscular abdomen from years of looking after himself and then several years of running around being a bit 007. And, lo and behold, underwear. As promised. ]
Satisfied?
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