[The audio, like so many things, begins abruptly.]
-should’ve figured one of you guys would show up. I was just about to put the word out. [The first to speak is Gin, his voice getting increasingly louder as he comes back to where he left the guide. Contrary to his usually dry tone, he sounds rather somber at the moment.]
[The answering voice is
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[ if it wasn't her, this could sound something more like-- u ok bro? ]
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[Awwww.]
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Do you know how to feed them and take care of them? I could come check in a week if all of you are still alive. [ because going there now is just-- no. ]
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My foster sister, Skye, had a litter. So yeah, I know how to deal with a handful of felines.
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Oh? Didn't look like it.
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They'll survive. [Rawr.]
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So you knew how but pretended you didn't when I was around. Is that what you're saying?
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It's called "free labour." [Shush. He doesn't want to have to deal with the cats if he doesn't have to.]
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It's called 'being a horrible liar'.
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Why do you even care?
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What do you mean? I thought it was obvious I care. About the cats.
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If you want to visit the goddamn hairballs, just ask.
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[ Beside the fact that she'd need some space for herself in such a moment-- so she'll just assume he does too, she doesn't want to risk seeing any waterworks either. Won't step in there until she's sure it's baw-free. ]
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[Puh-lease, Gin doesn't cry in front of women. That just wouldn't be manly. snort]
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