Essex looks over at her, and nods. There's just something about her that makes him want to either plot her demise with single-minded intensity, or claim her as his secret love-child. Possibly both.
So of course he has to wander over, brandy in hand to take a genetic sample talk to her
Magic just wants to know if she has food. Food is good.
Or scritches.
Never let it be said Magic was a picky dog.
Ace isn't terribly picky either, but she can get her own food. She is, however, elbow-deep in the innards of future bombs. She really put a dent in her supplies last week. It's going to take her ages to clear off that table.
Ace was going to give the owner of said arms a good chewing out for disrupting her concentration, but that's before she saw who it was. As it is? Roxanne had better be prepared for a very excited pyro tackle. "Roxanne! I can't believe it!"
Neither can the world of sanity, but this ship's already sailed.
"Lisa!" Bob laughs and hugs his little sister (not so little anymore--she's grown into a stunning young woman since he last saw her). "Oh my code, I've been meaning to write home, but I never thought I'd see you here..."
Salazar is quite simply over-joyed to see his old friend, to have the chance to catch up on her life since last they saw one another, those so many years past.
"Lady Serena, my dear," he takes her hand and kisses it gently, eyes shining, "how long has it been? Decades? Gods, I have missed you."
Skinner's book du nuit is perfectly fine and engaging, thank you very much.
It's just that the woman who's just walked in is significantly more interesting than even Shakespeare himself. Skinner wastes no time moving his legs from the table to the floor to guide him to her side.
"Good evening!" he says in a sing-song voice, practically floating the balls of his feet towards her. This is the closet Simon Skinner's come to his ballet background in decades.
Skinner's a little taken aback by the coldness--he doesn't want another rejection--but the brilliant smile and the purring makes it all better. She thinks he's pretty!
"Ah, my dear," he says, his voice charmedx1,000,000,000, "but the years have been kinder to you."
"You flatterer," she admonishes faintly, tapping his cheek with a finger. "And yet your smile has never seemed more bright. Has it really been ten years?"
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So of course he has to wander over, brandy in hand to take a genetic sample talk to her
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"H-hello."
Something sweet and innocent.
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"I'm sorry, young lady, but have we met?"
It sounds more polite than 'did I make you?'
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"No. No, of course not. It's just--"
She looks at him, long and hard, and takes another sip.
"No," she says with a shake of her head. "My name is Michelle, though."
He wouldn't learn her true name yet.
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Or scritches.
Never let it be said Magic was a picky dog.
Ace isn't terribly picky either, but she can get her own food. She is, however, elbow-deep in the innards of future bombs. She really put a dent in her supplies last week. It's going to take her ages to clear off that table.
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"Ace!"
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"Roxanne! I can't believe it!"
Neither can the world of sanity, but this ship's already sailed.
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And she's bouncing! Bouncing Roxanne who's clinging happily to Ace.
"Oh, I never thought I'd see you again! I thought, after that last time..."
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Oh man. It couldn't be. Could it?
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And she runs over before there's a running tackle glomp that ends with her arms around his waist.
"Bob! I haven't seen you in so long!"
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"That's all right, though I've missed you. Where am I? I can't complain, though,if you're here!"
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Salazar Slytherin is in a dark corner, going over some notes written in Latin.
In front of him is a pile of books and scrolls, some featuring pictures of a variety of snakes.
It's probably why the beautiful woman isn't noticed as of yet.
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"Salazar Slytherin. You'd think you'd at least take your nose out of the books long enough to greet an old friend."
Serena Sparklypoo.
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"Lady Serena, my dear," he takes her hand and kisses it gently, eyes shining, "how long has it been? Decades? Gods, I have missed you."
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"You make us sound so old, but I suppose it has been. And I've missed you as well."
She nods to the scrolls.
"And what are you working on?"
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It's just that the woman who's just walked in is significantly more interesting than even Shakespeare himself. Skinner wastes no time moving his legs from the table to the floor to guide him to her side.
"Good evening!" he says in a sing-song voice, practically floating the balls of his feet towards her. This is the closet Simon Skinner's come to his ballet background in decades.
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"Oh my dear Simon," she purrs as she looks him up and down. "The years have been ever so kind."
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"Ah, my dear," he says, his voice charmedx1,000,000,000, "but the years have been kinder to you."
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