The waters of the lake outside the mansion are placid, or at least as placid as they ever are. No one outside the lake could guess that anything is happening beneath its surface... until it begins happening above the surface. The periscope shoots up first, dripping water for dramatic effect. In moments, an impossible, pure gold-colored
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Typist: What the hell, eljay. What the hell.
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He yowls, hackles going up, and jumps back from the water, hissing and spitting.
Which, admittedly, looks rather silly for a man just upwards of seven feet tall.
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"What is that thing?"
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He puts his hands on his hips, studying the submarine.
"Huh."
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