Sometime before that OOM posted prior to this post, there is a Sarah Jane lounging around outside on a blanket. She's sitting crosslegged, head bent downward as she works on notes for an upcoming article she's working on
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Charlie drops himself into the grass, his guitar in his arms, and says, "I met your boyfriend. Who is James Bond," he adds in a tone that says, omg that is so cool.
"Me?" His eyes get very wide. "Good lord, no. Unless rock'n'roll invests somebody with certain matrimonial powers, and somehow I doubt that. I was thinking more along the lines of Father Mulcahy if you want to go the traditional route or one of the gods if you don't."
"Oh--" He puts on his most disarming smile, the one that's let him get away with a large amount of bullshit over his lifetime. "You know. Things happen. Doors close."
"Can I tell you something? And I'm being completely and utterly serious when I say it--it's not bid for sympathy or trying to bring the drama. It's just a fact."
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Maybe the Doctor too, but right now, she's more interested in keeping that to herself.
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"Hey, if you decide to do it here, there's lots of people who can perform the ceremony. Well, at least three that I can think of."
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His face gets a little serious. "Actually, I shouldn't make any promises. I don't know if I'll be around."
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"Can I tell you something? And I'm being completely and utterly serious when I say it--it's not bid for sympathy or trying to bring the drama. It's just a fact."
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"The point being, really, that Desmond's convinced someday he's not going to be able to save me. And I--I don't want him to go out of his way trying."
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