Really? Now I'm even more curious to try it — a flavor from your native star.
[He takes his glass easily, spins it once on the countertop to make the glass rattle aesthetically against the wood of the bar — just for the pleasure of the sound. And then, with smooth confidence, he takes a drink himself.
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[He shakes his head.]
It still doesn't warrant one death. If he were so worried, he simply would've poisoned the lot of us all at once to whittle the numbers.
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...still, going after a few that way would have been a better idea than what actually happened.
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[He's joking. Probably.]
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[but- he hums.]
They're still-- well, you know. Here to torment us. Talking to them can be just as infuriating as it is interesting.
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[Oh. Oh.]
The only one of us here I'd describe as tormented is — would have been, Barnes.
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It means any one of us might be targeted next. And potentially succumb.
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[don't be rude to the dead.]
But I do try to speak with all of them when I can. See if I can't figure them out a bit.
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[He waits a beat, then laughs softly.]
I'm joking. Frankly, anyone in a situation like this who isn't taking the measure of those around him is a fool.
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[he's also joking, judging by the lighter tone.]
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[He says, gripping his chest dramatically before reaching for his beer.]
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[he likes the dramatics-- this one, he thinks, is more entertaining than most, taking another drink from his own cup.]
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[But then he pauses a minute, as an uncertain flash of emotion flickers briefly through his gaze, before almost without meaning to he begins: ]
I m—
[And just as quickly, bites the thought off.]
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[he glances back over to him when he cuts himself off, peering at him over the rims of his glasses. are you good?]
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[BETTER DRINK MORE BEER.]
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[he wants to press, but-- there's enough he prefers not to be pressed on that he stops short of it.]
Well, if there's anything you do need to discuss, you're free to ask.
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[He frowns again, scowling a little as he looks down at himself like there are answers to be found in his coat and body armor.]
Nothing. The way you offered that jest. 'Twas...
[He winces.]
— nostalgic.
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[it is, at least, a feeling he's familiar with.]
Another drink?
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[hmm. he observes their options, for a moment.]
Number Nine sounds more interesting, if you ask me.
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[he'll obtain two of them, then, sliding one to thancred and taking a quick sip from his own--
after which his ears both perk, glowing eyes widening behind his glasses.]
How-- I know this flavor.
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[He takes his glass easily, spins it once on the countertop to make the glass rattle aesthetically against the wood of the bar — just for the pleasure of the sound. And then, with smooth confidence, he takes a drink himself.
And likewise startles.]
...Uncanny. I could swear this was —
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