"Anyway, now...I'm pretty steamed, right? I mean, Bob Dylan being less of an icon than Bruce Springsteen? Everybody knows that Dylan is one of the last true American poets." Freddy Freeman gets more wound up with each word, before stopping to sip on his egg cream.
"He's not hearing anything like it. What does he know, anyway? He's a clone.
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Comments 14
"I don't think you are," she says, giving him a sympathetic smile.
Mary's quiet, and takes the hand that's not holding her egg cream and gives his a squeeze.
"He does tend to let the whole situation that he's in go to his head, I've noticed." She's a bit unsure of what to say, as she doesn't want to say anything to possibly upset Freddy. She cares about him too much to upset him.
"If it helps,I think you're much more cultured and mature than he is."
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"Where's Billy, anyway? Doing another byline or something?" His arms extend out for balance before inviting her up.
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"I dunno," she says, leaning on him a bit to maintain her balance on ledge of the building, "I haven't really seen much of him today. Which is kind of strange, he normally calls my cellphone a good ten times a day to check up on me."
Oh the perks of having a somewhat over-protective twin brother.
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"Hello, Batson? Yeah, you know who this is. I've got your kid sister, and there's nothing you can do about it. Oh what? Yeah? Hold on...You don't think I will? Well what are you gonna do, huh? Didn't think so, tough guy." Cradling the phone to his ear, he tries to push away Mary's outstretched arm.
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