[Tonight on the Plane, have a Dorothy. Only tonight, Dorothy comes to you in what's surely to be this Spring's hottest fashion trend, Looking Like You've Just Run Away From A 1930s Dinner Party With Royalty After The Venue Was Attacked By Political Dissidents. And "Run Away" here meaning literally-- her black silk
dress is torn, with beads and
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Comments 45
Blimey, you really threw a punch at a duke? [Considers the torn dress and the bruise.] Did you win?
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[Although the bruise seems to hint towards at least somebody getting one good whack in on her before she could be pulled away.]
...Hypothetically, of course.
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[Not that she's happy about that. Oh, heavens no.]
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[She peers at him, trying to discern which Doctor he is, but then half-smiles, as she thinks she's figured it out]
Had a chance to look at my DNA yet?
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Nope, not yet. Been a bit busy the last few days. [you have no idea]
How are you, Dorothy? Besides the duke-potential-punching? What did he do that made you punch him?
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[as if it's perfectly normal] Oh, there was a... dispute. Everything's fine now, except for Ozma being so mad at me. Don't rightly know how to make it up to her for ruining her party. She'll be a little... grumpy, for a while. Looks like I'll be keeping my distance.
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I would say the first issue that must be addressed is why you punched him.
[she accesses her toilette]
You seem quite out of sorts.
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Hmm... Hypothetically, let's not get into it, other than to say he deserved it, and leave it at that.
[frowning] Well, my friend is pretty upset I ruined her party, and I don't blame her. I'm kind of mad at myself. Well, I would be, if this weren't hypothetical. Y'understand.
[haha, Dorothy, nobody is buying it.]
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Hypothetical or no, it must still be addressed.
It is not enough merely to wish it away, or even to heal the damage left in its wake.
It would be like attempting to wish a kiss away, without understanding why it occurred, Without that knowledge, it is certain to happen again.
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...Did someone punch you as well? [a slight scowl surrounds the words]
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[Her eyes widen just a tiny bit, as if wondering how he knew-- apparently she hasn't looked at herself since it happened. Subconsciously she reaches up to touch her cheek where the bruise sits, but catches herself and decides to scratch the back of her neck instead.]
Well, I didn't hit him for no reason. 'M not a violent person.
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[She frowns, which would be painful, probably, not that she makes it obvious. She's already frowning, after all.]
I don't blame her for bein' mad. I just want to make it up to her. She's my best friend.
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