But for anyone who actually wanted to get out of the hotel, there was plenty to do today. The morning program for Fandom was filled with an introductory look at the
Habitat for Humanity housing project they'd be working on all week. It was a little out of the city center, on an abandoned plot the local chapter had found. Some of the houses were
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Feeling right at home with his brethren, he took up a seat, popped out one of his many fake ID's and got to work on his vacation complete with food and Irish ale.
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When she was outfitted with a beer, though, that was when she noticed who else was here. And it wasn't like she could avoid him all week (probably?), so for the moment, she just flipped up her hood before wandering over.
"My prediction comes true," she noted, sliding into a seat beside him. "Drinking your face off already."
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And please, of course he was drinking. He was not gonna fucking work when there were Irish pubs around.
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He'd just made that up but whatever, he thought a stalker would do that if they were him. "Why do you need to get drunk? Canada getting to you that badly? I would have given it a few more days before someone went fucking mental over this place."
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Way to not clarify that, Ramona.
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"I look weird."
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"They killed your hair!" he said, pointing at it. "Your hair is dead. Long live your hair!"
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Blanket statements for everyone!
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