Having spent two hours of the morning digging around in a (dead) human chest cavity with my begloved hands, waggling various bits of the human heart at people and spouting things that sound like Potter-verse spells, I am tentatively proud of the fact that my current state of death-warmed-up is not due to anatomical squeamishness ("Hey, look, you
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Crack of utter randomness: Darren Nichols (bar-version) tried to sell his soul to one of the devils in exchange for Puck's safety. I imagine it was a grand theatrical gesture as he kept trying to imagine what it would look like staged. So amused. Is S3 out on DVD yet? *pines*
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