Last night I stayed up later than I meant to, writing a letter for my mother. She becomes fidgety when she doesn't hear from me in a while, convinced that she's lost her son to the sins of modern society
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They're all eager to prove themselves, and not just to you. These aren't matters for public consumption, though; tell me, is there anything I can do to make your days at home less dull?
They're too terrified of me to put up a fight. Where's the fun in that? Except your Frippy. Frippy would hang, draw, and quarter me if it would amuse you.
And I'm very glad to see that you've come to your senses.
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Or have a Greco-Roman wrestling match?
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Not that you should be getting ideas, dearest.
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Look for my owl.
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Have a good night.
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Shall I have to hand deliver yours then?
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