Jan. 11th, 2006

flybywash: (who's flying this thing?! oh. right. me.)
It's seven-eighteen local time, and the sun's just starting to peek over the horizon.

Exit a novice, bearing a thermos, from the guest rooms.

What? Of course he was supposed to be there. Early request for aid from one of their guests, you know. Couldn't be helped.

Oh, and pay no attention to the limp. He just...twisted his ankle while gardening yesterday.

Right.

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flybywash

January 2007

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