So, like, I'm just calling to say that I'm gonna be home sick for a while!
And by a while I mean two weeks.
Don't come over to visit or call me on the phone or even walk past my house or I will fucking end you and everything you love.
[Spring is most certainly in the air, isn't it? And while the majority of you humans living in Mayfield will be
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There another weirrd holiday goin' I should be aware of?
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Raw.
And no onions.
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[He will leave to get them. It'll take a bit to find a non-drone cook to hassle with about getting raw meat. When he gets back, he'll just knock on her door and leave the bag as close to it as he can get.]
Dinner's on!
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She stares at the bag with dead eyes.]
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