[The morning after his and Charles' deaths, Hong Kong awakens in the master bedroom of 767 Bunker Street. The room is still in the same ripped apart state that the hazmats left it in and his hands tense around the torn and shredded duvet as he looks around.
After a while, he reaches out to pick up the phone on the bedside table to make a call, but
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ing]
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...Wei?
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Just calling to see if everything's all right.
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he doesn't clarify, only asks some questions of his own]
...Did you pass it on? You didn't keep it?
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and he finds himself shocked at his slightly paranoid reaction to the knock, before regaining his usual lineface composure and heads downstairs to open the door. he's inwardly pleased to see his friend standing there.]
...Ice. Hey.
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erm yeah. feel free to notice that most of the house has been torn to bits as if somebody's been violently looking for something.]
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She may look exhausted.*
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judging by how exhausted she looks he decides against it and gets up to try and examine the state of the room as quietly as possible. a few noises are inenvitable though, what with so much broken stuff on the floor.]
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You okay? [yeah ignore the fact that he was just dead]
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unlike Hong Kong, he doesn't wish to think about what had happened, pushing those thoughts to a far corner of his mind after allowing himself a few moments of silent seething. once that is over, his first course of action is to seek him out and make sure nothing had gone wrong during the revival.
considering he views the master bedroom as his own to begin with, there won't be any knocking before the door is thrown open.]
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he's less tense as he sees who it is though. silent relief that he's back as well]
...You're back.
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...Now you know.
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Hello?
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[he seems to think better of that statement though and seems to want to change the subject] Oi. Happy Birthday.
I'll bring over your present when this is all over.
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