[Narvin's spent the last half hour staring at the communicator, tapping his fingers on his desk, trying to figure out whose side he's on. If it were a choice between Kay and the Master, the decision would be easy. But with control of the Barge and the power to possibly save Gallifrey in the mix, it became rather more difficult.]
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And about this weekend? Truce. My lips are sealed.
[This *isn't* because he's hungry, though he is. It's because he's realizing that baiting the hand that feeds him is, generally, a stupid thing to do. Even if it is entertaining.]
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This is as far as my involvement goes. The rest is on your head.
[He is still avoiding acknowledging the weekend. At all.]
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[Sarcasm. It does not type up well.]
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