[Stango at his desk, hunched over a few slips of heavily scribbled paper, muttering to himself. After a little while, he crumples them and hurls them into the trashcan which is for some reason outside his door.
Should anyone investigate, they read as follows:
1. THERE ONCE WAS A GUY FROM THE BRONX
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Comments 29
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Nothin', kid. Nothin'. Just some...
Files.
Yeah.
I'm...
filin'.
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How do I love ya? Let me count the ways
I love ya to the depth and breath and height
Of Rapture, when feelin' outta sight
For the ends of leaky pipes and splicers crazed.
I love ya to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by security bot and oil drum light-
What the feck is that?
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Somethin' I...found. Yeah.
Found it.
/slams his pen down hard, trying to pretend he wasn't writing it
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People? Writin' love letters about McGee? I ever get these things...how does that mook get them?
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BENNY! I think we need to talk.
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...Yeah? What about, Frankie?
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/holds at arms length
Look Ben, no wonder you can't find a dame, save McGee, yes I know about that Your writing is terrible!
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