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Oct 14, 2007 16:00

*It's not a good day to be a mosquito.

Apparently fresh from an excursion to a stationer's, the captain, who has been keeping himself to himself rather too much of late (not good for the moods or the wine cellar and due entirely to the mun's unfortunate real life) is sitting on a Convenient Couch and licking the end of a Convenient Pen thoughtfully. His big leatherbound writing book is balanced across his knees, and he seems generally in an even-tempered frame of mind -

- unless you're an inquisitive mosquito.

The steel flat of Hook's right hand comes down in a glittering arc and flattens one of the little buzzing beggars without so much as a flicker of warning crossing the man's sharp, preoccupied face. He taps the pen on his even white teeth, then glances sidelong at the sign.*

Tell me...does denying something's existance, and forbidding all around you to talk of it on pain of death, actually do any good? Or does it in fact prolong the life, the memory of that you wished to erase from history?

((EDIT: Mun is off for today. Will answer any commenst as soon as possible. Thankyou for all the RP so far.))
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