Subject: Not a gentleman . . .
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Posted on: 2011-07-26 17:44:00 UTC

Now that was something he was on better terms with. Suicide paused when she touched his arm, running a hand through his shaggy gray hair (doing absolutely nothing for it; the man seemed to generate an internal scruffiness field).

"It's too late," he said cheerfully. "You've gone and fed me after midnight, and now you're stuck with me." The gremlin analogy seemed appropriate, especially considering that he'd left several bite marks. "The Universal Laws have probably lined up another mission for me, but--" He momentarily contemplated the virtues of when I get back versus if I get back, and decided to slither out of the issue by doing a quick rephrase "--but I'll be coming by again as soon as I can. I'd say feel free to drop by the RC, but--Mithiriel." The name spoke volumes: Lemon-Pledge-scented, Glare-of-Doom-wielding volumes.

He moved towards the door, but stopped himself halfway through the motion. Jenni still seemed a bit on edge, and it seemed to him that a couple of things hadn't been covered yet.

"Thanks," he said to her. The word came out oddly, a little blunt, but with feeling. "You're a good woman." Ouch, rhetoric was definitely not his bag--yet that was the only way to put it as far as he was concerned. He couldn't picture her telling someone to come back with their shield or on it, but citizen women were worthy for more than just their stoicism. There was something horribly ironic about him holding up standards for what made a 'good' person, especially considering that he routinely got rid of self-proclaimed good people, but he could only go by what he remembered and knew for himself. Like his own impending death, it was a certainty. "Friends?"

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