[Most of the morning, Ceodore's outside the house working on putting the finishing touches on a sizable pen. Who it's intended to contained is fairly obvious, if the disgruntled warking of a half-grown, black chocobo is any indication. The bird's been tethered to one of the posts so he can't get away and into trouble, while his owner slaves away on
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Let's just think things through for now.
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[...That last point is probably not quite so practical for everyone involved.]
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I just think it's gonna be better to wait. Besides, I still need to get you picking up after yourself regularly.
[Face facts folks, Ceodore's a total slob.]
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Wha- huh?
[Disappointed! And so confused. He picks up! Like... once every four months.]
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Selphie has a point. It'd be unfair to expect her to take care of the whole home by herself.
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No offense Ceodore, but you're a bit of a slob.
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[This is honestly the first he's hearing of this. Or at least paying attention to.]
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[That sort of moderate response can only come from a proud father who always sees the best in his son. Or a sad man suffering from denial.]
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First course of action! Learning how to put your dirty clothes in the laundry hamper.
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[Isn't it fun, being told off by the father and the girlfriend at the same time? Long live family unity!]
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[Might as well the boyfriend's ego all nice and good.]
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[Someone's already fragile sense of self-worth is quickly dwindling. Ceodore's so prone to absorbing things wrong as gross disappointments that he visibly wilts, with some vague understanding that he's once again been an epic failure. Both Father and Selphie get a rather sorry look and then he stands up to pace over to the other side of the room. Gotta love teen angst, yes?]
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...Ceodore?
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