Somewhere in South Africa, a teacher is walking away from her first day on the job. She's peaceful, glad that the day is over, and satisfied with her work. When she enters the bar instead of her apartment, her reaction is to be happier. This is a great way to spend the night after the first day at work. She orders a salad and tea and doesn't notice
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Santino disapproves, being the nationalistic Italian he is. He took a sip from the drink at his elbow, and turned to properly face Silvia.
"Though I am quite glad that you are interested."
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"But you see I don't have time to learn languages the normal way. In this busy world, who has time to sit around and read books and do silly drills?" Smiling a bright, toothy, dishonest smile, Silvia sticks out a hand in Santino's face. It's quite thin and stuff. "Hi. My name is Silvia Broome. And you are?"
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"Salvatore. I am Italian, you see, and I take exception to any devious tactics towards my language."
He laughed, a full and wholesome sound. "The drills aren't entirely as silly as you might think."
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He sets down his book and looks away, horrorfied. . .
He makes a very serious decision.
The tofu?
Must be stopped.
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In what seems no time, Bateman now has a bubbly blonde bouncing over to him. "PAT-triiiiick! How are you?" she squeals. The annoying American inflictions sound wrong coming from her South African accent.
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Carefully, "--pink."
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