[This was supposed to be voice, but the wrong button was pushed--so now you get to see Sirius, a bit smudged and dirty, with a scratch running along his forehead. He's strolling down an alleyway, opening rubbish bins and dropping something into each one. Oh, mystery of mysteries.]Blo-o-o-dy hell. Summer ought not to be murder, and by that I mean: a
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So why're you askin' about them?
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