Javert glanced around as he stepped into the hall, frowning slightly. It was already bustling--not the best of signs--but the medical wing would only be a short walk away.
"Tell me about those letters," he said, settling into his usual brisk pace. "Did you get one? Who wrote them?"
Ah, now those were the sharp responses with which Guybrush was familiar and expected from his Frenchman friend, though the offer of pudding was a novel touch. He followed Javert into the hallway, heading toward the main corridor.
"I didn't get one, but a guy I spoke to in the library did," Guybrush answered. "Mine would have probably been from my visitor last week: a court-appointed attorney. Just the kind of notice I want while held hostage in a spooky asylum-turned-military-operation."
Javert glanced around as he stepped into the hall, frowning slightly. It was already bustling--not the best of signs--but the medical wing would only be a short walk away.
"Tell me about those letters," he said, settling into his usual brisk pace. "Did you get one? Who wrote them?"
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"I didn't get one, but a guy I spoke to in the library did," Guybrush answered. "Mine would have probably been from my visitor last week: a court-appointed attorney. Just the kind of notice I want while held hostage in a spooky asylum-turned-military-operation."
[To here.]
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