It was a warm, sunny, beautiful day here in Fandom, and look at how much it wasn't raining anything weird. You're welcome, parents, friends, assorted guests and fair citizens of Fandom who didn't want to explain that sort of thing right off the bat
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"No." He breathed it in one more time, and then turned sharp golden eyes on Surreal. "A female. Who is she?"
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Daemon didn't like the way she closed herself off from him. Didn't like that he had no idea what was going on, except for that smell. Except for how Surreal had just put a wall between the two of them.
The Sadist didn't take well to walls.
"Who is that female, Surreal?"
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A friend. And if she wasn't around here, shy of attempting to scent her out, there wasn't anything to be done about it.
He relaxed. But only slightly.
"Very well."
The coolness in the air lingered for a moment longer, and then faded away again.
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"And if you so much as try to sniff out Cara, our deal is off and you won't find me again. My private life is mine, and private." And Surreal didn't want to share one of the few nice things she'd had in her short, violent life with an overbearing male.
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As much as he wanted to.
"Tell me about your classes."
The ones that he was certain she loathed him for, yes.
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"This is the best dog I have ever eaten," she announced.
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"Dog?"
Surely they didn't actually eat dog here?
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Which, when it came to eating dog, was generally a good thing.
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"So you're enjoying it, then?"
Of course, when Tersa was involved, when she got so excited about things like this, it was almost an infectious sort of excitement. Even Daemon couldn't help but crack a smile.
"I can't imagine it begins to compare to your nutcakes, of course."
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She shook out her skirts and produced a bottle made of some odd material she couldn't identify. It was not metal, nor paper, nor glass. The important thing was the picture on the front; a black and white spotted cow with a metal tag in it's ear under the word 'milk.'
She held it out to him. "This is for you to drink."
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There were some things that one could get out of, when speaking to Tersa. Drinking one's milk was not one of them, and he'd bear it with as much dignity as he could muster.
"Always looking out for me, aren't you, Tersa?"
He was already half wondering if it would be possible to just vanish the contents of the strange bottle and get away with that, yes.
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It was easier to play 'Tersa's little boy' when he just gave in and drank the damn milk.
"And it's gone," he announced, turning the emptied bottle upside-down to demonstrate. "I wouldn't dream of playing games with my milk, after all."
... Well.
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