[ When the camera flips on, there is not much for it to regard. The ceiling is exposed, sloped above. The sound of soft breathing, of rustling sheets. After a moment, there is shifting. The tablet has a small hand flopped over it, obscuring much of the picture with small fingers half-curled in the comfort of sleep
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[ He furrows his brow into a frown, but shakes his head and moves to collect Bethany's hand, before following Carver back inside. ]
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My name is Morrigan, child, not witch lady.
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