[Jack has been spending a great deal of time at House Seven, looking after Buffy. There are occasions though when he manages to slip off to Cullen House; he has to keep an eye on the place, after all, and is slowly but surely stocking up on necessary non-perishable supplies for the winter that he and Katie McCoy can share. Firewood. So many things
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... Gone, huh? I was wondering where she'd went to.
[He didn't know her all that well, but she wasn't even poking around any of the usual victim's journals, either.]
That's too bad; she was a pretty interesting kid. But it's for the best, for someone like her, at her age.
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But you're right, of course. It's for the best.
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She tossed me into a mountain with my cross... apparently because she's allergic to priests.
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...Miraculous, really.
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I always end up around people who get me up to my neck in trouble.
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[A pause.]
What are the chances, you think, of getting him to dress like a ballerina?
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It would take the divine grace of God.
Why?
[Do I want to know how your brain works.]
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[Huh.]
Well in that case, you might be able to pull it off. But why is more important. I would never want to see him in a ballerina outfit, of all things.
[There are some things a preacher cannot bear to see. A man in a tutu is one of them, even if it is funny.]
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Just remember, he and the cat are in cahoots. I'd be on your best guard.
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[God that cat is terrifying. Maybe Hector will protect him from her, now.]
Thanks for the good advice, mate.
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