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2 yrs ago
Current Next time you find things going extremely well for yourself. Remember to brace for impact.
1 like
2 yrs ago
This will never end because I want more / More give me more, give me more / If I had a heart I could love you / If I had a voice I would sing
2 likes
2 yrs ago
"I feel like I could eat the whole world raw."
2 yrs ago
When one of us goes to war. We all go to war.
2 likes
2 yrs ago
-Compares the murder of 50 innocent men and women to the murdering of a murderer- Hooookay. I'm not even American, but jesus those are literally non-comparable.

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๐—–๐—Ÿ๐—”๐—ฌ๐—ง๐—ข๐—ก ๐—ฆ๐—ง๐—˜๐—œ๐—ก & ๐—”๐—œ๐—Ÿ๐—” ๐—”๐—ง๐—Ÿ๐—˜๐—ข



Opening up her fridge with a groan she scanned the half-empty shelves for some eggs. Luckily she still had a few, along with some English muffins. She quickly snatched up a half-drank jug of OJ and two glasses, carrying all of her supplies in a delicate act of true dexterity. The apartment hall was quiet, but Steinโ€™s room had some level of noise. He was talking to someone on the phone. Aila considered leaving him to his devices and skipping breakfast, but god only knew that if she didnโ€™t get him going no one could.

So she balanced her variety of groceries on one arm, pinning them with her head while she snatched the spare key she kept in her inner jacket pocket. She deftly unlocked the door, but Stein didnโ€™t seem to notice her entry. He continued on with his conversation, which at this point couldโ€™ve been clearer had Aila decided to focus โ€“ but she wasnโ€™t one to pry. Besides Stein wasnโ€™t the most fascinating, he was moreโ€ฆ Comfy. Kind of like a nice old sofa youโ€™ve had at your house for a few decades. He wasnโ€™t going to blow anyoneโ€™s mind or anything โ€“ but he was dependable in a kind of way.

She snatched a recently cleaned frying pan from the drying rack and started the stove up, waiting for it to heat up. She scanned the apartment for any signs ofโ€ฆ Well signs he needed more than she could offer. But he was generally pretty clean for a male cop who lived alone. But that was most likely habit at this point โ€“ for someone like him with habits like his. She was worried about the effect of the past little while. It was at that point she heard his voice raise and she perked up, out of habit. But at that point the stove had heated up enough, and they were had to get going to be on time.

Aila took an egg in each hand, expertly cracking two eggs at a time until four eggs sat in each corner of the frying pan, simmering and singing the bottom of the yolk. She could hear his footsteps at this point.

โ€œMorning.โ€ She called out to him, lifting a hand but not turning to meet his gaze. Her other hand was focused on making sure the eggs didnโ€™t stick to the pan with a small spatula. โ€œHelp yourself to some OJ, breakfast will be ready soon.โ€ She called out, rubbing her nose with her hand before turning back to glance at herโ€ฆ Friend?

Their relationship confused most, including Aila at times. He was something of a surrogate brother or father, but she wasnโ€™t ready to face what that meant yet. So for now, friend is fine.

โ€œIt is morning, isnโ€™t it?โ€ Stein smiled at Aila, strolling into the kitchen with his tie noticeably crooked. His voice had a husky drawl to it, showing that he was indeed calm, regardless of his discussion with his deceased partner moments ago. The calm simply hid the fact that his mind continuously harbored on Coliโ€™s words. Her words from today. Her words from yesterday. Her words from two weeks ago... Her words before she died. Even when she wasnโ€™t around, she haunted him, for better or for worse. A curse and a blessing.

First, he couldnโ€™t accept the fact that she died, right under his nose. Second, he couldnโ€™t believe that someone would want to kill her. People may say she wasnโ€™t murdered, but Stein was fully convinced someone did end her life and not the other way around. Colette was not that type of woman to run off and disappear without notice, or for that matter, to commit suicide. They might have little evidence, but with how bold and meddlesome she was when she could breathe, he had no doubt she was involved in something beyond her. Truthfully, he believed it was something related to โ€˜the Otherโ€™.

As of now though, it was a theory, he had no idea what happened to her and that feeling โ€” the feeling of not knowing โ€” infuriated him. Lastly, she came back out of the blue and he couldnโ€™t comprehend the fact that she was once again back in his life. Daily, like the past, yet nothing like the past at all. She was dead and had limitations. All he could do was try his best to seek the answers she needed before she was gone, for good.

The thing is, did he want her gone for good?

Heading to his fridge, he opened it, but rather than get the orange juice out, he chose milk. Before he closed the fridge, he stared into it, at everything that was wrong with his life. Since he more often than not spent ungodly hours working, he had no need to stock up on food. Even if he did, the fridge itself was too small. Sure, he could afford a house at Avalon Point, but there was no need when his fridge embodied his current life. Empty. Not many mouths to feed, besides him and Aila.

If there was a fridge that had more food in it, it would be hers not his. He simply had nice kitchenware that she liked to use. Oh, and usually he left her money for groceries in the cookie jar that never had cookies in it. It was a fair bargain. As odd as it seemed, the way they did things worked for them. Rarely did he have visitors. The only person who outwardly visit(ed) him was Coli. Most people sought him out while he was on the job because rarely was he guaranteed to be home.

Unless, someone knew about his traditional shared breakfast with Aila, which was only known by a couple of coworkers since Stein took her to work. The question did come up. Either way, there have been times he headed to work early, before her, breaking the streak of together-breakfast. He would make amends by placing a pastry on her desk and providing lunch in the breakroom fridge โ€˜For Ailaโ€™.

Walking to the cabinet beside her, he grabbed a glass mug and poured the white liquid in it. This was their routine. He had forgotten when they hadnโ€™t eaten breakfast together. Weird, how time flies. โ€œDid you listen in to On The Edge? Weโ€™re going to have a phenomanal day today." He paused and scoffed to himself, "Good. I work better under stress.โ€ Waiting for her response, he chugged the milk in a matter of seconds and then poured himself another glass. What? He liked milk.

Aila watched Stein chug his glass of milk, he was a fiend for the stuff, this was clearly evidenced by his pouring of a second glass. She groaned at his mention of On the Edge. โ€œI did have the pleasure to tuning into that particular broadcast,โ€ she snapped her spatula against the countertop in frustration just enough to make a sharp ringing from the metal of the utensil. โ€œIโ€™m surprised you didnโ€™t hear my reaction, honestly.โ€ She noted sliding the spatula underneath two of the eggs and flipping them carefully so the yolk was slightly seared. She glanced over her shoulder, throwing her hair that had been resting in front of her shoulder back to being behind her and sighed.

โ€œIโ€™m not looking forward to today much.โ€ She said in a rather dry tone trying to think of something else. โ€œWhatโ€™s your weekend looking like?โ€ She asked, interested enough but also knowing Stein it was something along the lines of more work. While Aila would have to be interrogated to spill any beans on her own ideas for what might be fun this weekend, she did have something in mind.

She had a met a girl about her age not too long ago when she was working out, got her number โ€“ she figured she might dial it this weekend to see if she was free. Aila wasnโ€™t one for superficiality but, well, Steph was a looker. โ€œIโ€™ve gotโ€ฆ Iโ€™m probably going out for a meal at some point but thatโ€™s about it.โ€ She said skillfully snatching the finished eggs onto two small plates and carrying them out towards the small table they always ate at. She looked at a newspaper with curiosity but given todayโ€™s broadcast she figured it would be more of the same.

Five tips to housetrain your werewolf and all that kind of shit. She slid Steinโ€™s plate across to him while snatching up a two forks for the two of them. She grabbed two pieces of bread as well, smushing her eggs between them and taking a huge bite of the drippy mess that was her breakfast. โ€œI mean, why canโ€™t people just mind their own fuckinโ€™ business with this shit anyway?โ€ She forced out of her mouth in the middle of chewing her egg sandwich.

โ€œYโ€™know?โ€
As she talked, Stein put away the container of milk. To her response of being surprised he didn't hear her reaction, he simply shrugged. Unbeknownst to the pup, he was distracted with a conversation with the dead. Taking his seat, at the table, he pulled out his phone to check his emails. His eyes naturally drifted to the 'draft' section where there was 1 email in it. Incomplete. For Blake Preston.

"My weekend?" He glanced up from his phone's screen, having read that he, along with his coworkers, were tasked with reopening cold cases. There was one cold case he cared about solving, that consumed his every thought. It wasn't like he had a ghost reminding him every day of it. "I'm going to revisit some old places." That he knew Coli liked. One being the Blue Haze. If there was one suspicious race that could've potentially killed his partner, it was witches. She took a strong liking to magic. Probably because it made her mundane human life less... mundane. He never understood the fascination, but then again, he never understood the fascination Reina had with werewolves.

He was going to explain further, that he had bumped into the Carmichaels, who he refuses to see for mourning counseling, even six months after Coli's disappearance they're still trying, but Aila's mind seemed to be elsewhere. Matilda Carmichael did slip in some food for thought, which inspired him to go down memory lane. She said something ambiguous that made him reflect on himself and consider how to find the answers he was seeking. It was like she knew he had a personal agenda and she wanted to give him some aid.

Not today, though. Tomorrow he would revisit all the places Coli loved. He would never be ready to reopen wounds but the fact of the matter was, the wounds were already open and they wouldn't close until he got to the bottom of this. "A meal?" His steady voice resonated in the kitchen. His eyes displayed intrigue, happy that Aila was taking initiative and enjoying her life. "In other words, Ms. Atleo, you got herself a date." Stein smirked at his beloved neighbor. His plate slid in front of him and like a solder in the army, Stein finished his eggs before Aila even sat down and looked at the newspaper. One day, he would die from eating like this. That day was hopefully not today.

He chuckled at her frustration while he wiped his lips on a napkin. Grabbing an apple from his fruit bowl, he tossed it up in the air, before rubbing it against his shirt, "Because we all have one common trait, Aila. We like to be in the know. It's in my job to know who is up to no good, it's in your job to know what the team is up to and how to address people when it comes to their new found knowledge of 'us'. People are curious. They don't like being in the dark. And for better or for worse, we have to deal with moderating โ€” how they react โ€” when they seek out more knowledge." Chomping into the apple, he took a moment to chew, before continuing, "By the way, Reid wants us to open up cold cases. See if they have anything to do with 'The Other'." Stein's last statement had heavy connotations behind it, because Aila would know of the one cold case they deliberately made sure he could not work on. The one case he cared about. The Cold Case of Colette Bonnet.

Aila yawned after taking one last bite of her sandwich. It was draining living in a world that was spouting off nonsense 24/7 but now all that nonsense was directed at her. It was the talk of the town and it was annoying as all hell.

That being said, she had a few things to be grateful for.

"Stein," Aila said glancing over at the stove's clock. "We have to head out, I don't think you'll be able to take your food with you so hurry up, okay?" She got up and stared rinsing off her plate and dishes. Stein was quick to finish as well, and soon enough the two were on their way to work, ready to confront the day. Or, as ready as they were going to be after a half-assed breakfast.
@Metronome

Mind if I grab a quick invite? Seems the link on the first page is expired.
Ditto to that! Here's Ordnance for your approval or otherwise!



Hi there! @RedxCross and I would love to make Character sheets if you guys are still open!

We'll start ASAP - loving everyone else's character sheets so far!

๐—Ÿ๐—”๐—ก๐—š ๐— ๐—ข๐—ก๐—ฌ๐—˜๐—ง๐—›๐—˜๐—•๐—˜๐—ก๐—š


โ™ชโ™ช

In which a night shift cop from another country tries to flirt accept a casual night out with a drinking buddy. @McHaggis


Lang whistled as he took his earbuds out. Louise had signed off and they had started their flashback playlist with some Daryl Hall and John Oates. Nice to hear some American music for a change. He waved to the night secretary who was just ending her shift, Aila shouldโ€™ve been getting in pretty soon to take over for the day. He went and signed off his shift, taking his vest off, changing, and releasing all of his equipment before finally heading over to his locker. He found his baggy pullover hoodie and threw it on. It exposed the nape of his neck and a bit lower than his collarbone, but he always wore comfy clothes after work. Besides, he was only just remembering what the sun looks like.

But that was when everything his changed. As he was about to close his locker, he heard his phone buzz from inside it. โ€œAh shit, close call.โ€ He murmured to himself grabbing the phone and quickly scanning the contact it was from. But it was an unknown number.

Huh.

He read the first line offered in the preview of the message. His brain was only able to process the words โ€˜Louise and radioโ€™ before he instinctively threw his phone at the wall. There was absolutely no reason. No sensible way to explain what he had done. He gingerly picked up the phone, looking at the screen and inspecting the damage. It had a sizeable crack in the bottom half, which made Lang inhale sharply upon seeing it.

โ€œOh shit.โ€ He muttered, looking behind him. The room was empty.

โ€œOh fuck, oh fuck oh shit.โ€

Itโ€™s fake.

โ€œOh obviously.โ€ Lang started to laugh a nervous laugh, it sounded less like a healthy human and more like a cat choking up a hairball. He slid his phone into his pocket, but it felt like it weighed as much as a fridge.

Itโ€™s fake.

He continued to get ready, grabbing a few of his things. A few other night shift officers came in, quietly greeting Lang. He just stared at them. Right into their eyes. It could have been one of them.

โ€œYou good buddy?โ€ One asked, Lang squinted at him, focusing all of his cop super powers into this stare, โ€œa-are you okay?โ€ The man just seemed confused, shit.

โ€œYeah.โ€ Lang said, grabbing the rest of his things and storming off.

Itโ€™s fake.

โ€œHey Laurel, before you head out โ€“ mind if you run a number for me?โ€ Lang asked the secretary, looking somewhat like a junkie with the amount he was twitching.

โ€œOh sure, Lang. What is it?โ€ Laurel asked coolly.

โ€œUh, yeah, itโ€™s 2038073914,โ€ Lang said, starting to sweat a little.

Laurelโ€™s eyes scanned the screen as her fingers nimbly inputted the number. One eyebrow raised to almost hilarious proportions before her eyes slid over to Lang. โ€œI swear to god if youโ€™re stalking that poor girl Lang.โ€

Itโ€™s not fake.

โ€œThank you!โ€ He said taking off in a full sprint, small duffle bag in tow. He made it out the doors and continue to sprint, he made his way into the middle of the road and jumped as far as he could.

He felt like a kid again.

โ€œLang, what the fuck?โ€ Another officer shouted out at him.

โ€œShut up!โ€ He called back, sprinting around the corner and taking off towards his house. By the time he made it home he closed the door behind him and threw his sweater at his bed. Staring at the text message again.

โ€œOh my god, she makes typos.โ€ He said quietly. She asked if I was for drinks.

I am for drinks.

Lang quietly pondered what to do, staring at the propped up phone sitting on his pillow.

โ€œI need help.โ€

He quickly opened up his text messages with the only person who could help. A girl he actually knew.




Play it cool. Only advice Aila could have given.

It made sense. She was a radio host, that was basically a short walk from being a phenomenon, a celebrity. She couldโ€™ve been expecting someone like Elvis, or other American heroes.

He had to dial it up.

Lang opened up the notes section of his phone so just in case she could see him typing, she wouldnโ€™t watch him draft a good response for the next five minutes. The entirety of the time it took him to draft the thirty three word text he was beet red and felt like he was overheating. His ears especially burned with passion and embarrassment as he reread everything to make sure it didnโ€™t sound like he had reread it 100 times.

โ€œOkay.โ€ He said, moving back to the messaging app.



It was done.

Immediately he buried his phone beneath his pillow placing his head on top of the pillow and tried to wait it out. Maybe time would go by quickly and he would have a response soon?

Maybe she was just as anxious?

His phone vibrated and his pillow was nearly torn asunder as his desperate claws reached the phone.

It was the Dominoโ€™s pizza app he kept forgetting to delete.

They had a deal for 7.99 two topping large pizzas.

Wow, thatโ€™s an amazing deal.
๐—”๐—ก๐——๐—ฅ๐—ข๐— ๐—˜๐——๐—”


Andromeda took a sip of her coffee, attempting to feel the caffeine press its way into her mind. She needed to be ready and alert โ€“ she was getting there.

โ€œSo Mrs.-โ€œ

โ€œYou can just call me Kate.โ€ The middle aged-woman interrupted. She had dark hair that fell straight down her back like frozen water, there seemed to be a large amount of product in it. โ€œAre you sure youโ€™re old enough to be offering therapy to my Brayden?โ€ She asked with a privileged tone holding her sonโ€™s head in her hands in what looked to be a very uncomfortable position for him.

Andromeda took a second to look at the boy, he looked not frightened but anxious, like a caged animal but not one that was ready to resort to violence. His mother on the other hand looked like a twig supporting the weight of a fully grown mastiff.

Andi needed to diffuse.

โ€œKate,โ€ she started, her eyes slowly shifting from the son to his mother. โ€œDo you think Brayden and I could speak alone for a few minutes?โ€ She asked, her voice light as if she was speaking to a child.

โ€œI donโ€™t know if thatโ€™s a good idea, Doctor.โ€ Kate immediately shot back as if she had spent the past decade of her life working as a therapist.

โ€œI do,โ€ Andromeda said, not breaking her eye contact from Kate. Kate looked at her for only a second before breaking eye contact and nodding. She said a few quiet words to her son before departing, leaving Brayden alone with his therapist. He fiddled with his hands a little bit, biting his cuticle, it seemed like he had cut it a little bit. His right hand had a band-aid on the knuckle, most definitely recent. He wore clothes that were definitely picked out by his mother. A button up shirt she'd expect of someone three times his age, his hair very neatly combed and gelled, khaki pants. No eight year old wore khaki pants as a choice.

After a few moments of silence, Andi moved out from behind her desk, expertly grabbing a lollipop from a small tray hidden behind her computer monitor before kneeling down so she met Braydenโ€™s eye line. She handed him the sweet and met his eyes, he smiled a little bit and she mirrored his expression. โ€œIโ€™ll tell you what Brayden is that what you friends call you?โ€

โ€œThey call me Bray.โ€ He said, unskillfully unwrapping the candy and plopping it into his mouth, leaving his poor cuticles alone for the time being.

โ€œDo you think I could call you Bray?โ€ She asked with a curious intonation.

โ€œYeah, we can be friends too.โ€ Bray said looking at the window, Andi smiled.

โ€œOkay, then you can call me Andi โ€“ thatโ€™s what my friends call me, okay?โ€ She asked, he looked back at her with the smallest amazement.

โ€œOkay.โ€ He said, still making eye contact, nodding a little absentmindedly.

โ€œSo Bray, I heard you got into trouble at school last week,โ€ Andi said, carefully watching his eyes. As soon as she mentioned trouble, his eyes moved from her gaze to the corner of his vision, his head turning slightly. She let the silence hang in the air for a few seconds.

And then a minute.

Bray looked upset, but she just kept her gaze ever so gently on him, before finally he turned back to Andi.




Andi dusted off some of her things as Kate re-entered the room she found the therapist sitting back at her desk and her son, content with his lollipop. She glanced at him sitting down and petting his head like he was a beagle.

โ€œOkay Bray, your mummy and I are just going to talk about some grown up stuff, why donโ€™t you go play out in the lobby for a couple seconds?โ€ Andi said with a giant grin on her face. Bray got up and ran out to the small brainteaser toys that were located in the lobby, still well within the small area restricted to the therapistsโ€™ patients.

โ€œSo? Whatโ€™s going on with my son?โ€ Kate asked impatiently glancing at Andromeda as if she was her won disappointing daughter.

โ€œNothing out of the ordinary. He was being picked on and he fought back, Iโ€™d talk to him about using his words and speak to the teacher about making sure another student isnโ€™t picking on him but other than that you should be fine.โ€ Andromeda took a second to look at Kate once more, taking another sip of her coffee. โ€œHe definitely doesnโ€™t need therapy, just a bit more support.โ€

A glare passed over Kateโ€™s eyes, quickly but altogether still present. For a moment she mustโ€™ve considered lashing out. She was almost certainly giving him all the support in the world. But she decided against it and held her anger back. โ€œWell Doctor, thanks for your opinion. Weโ€™ll be sure to get a second one before speaking to his teachers. She said, picking up her bag in an overly dramatic fashion and carting her son off to go someplace else.

Andi leaned back in her chair, her arms slouching to her side as she absent mindedly made a Bras dโ€™honneur to alleviate some of the pent up anger.

He was a good kid though.

Shaking her mouse in order to wake up her computer, she wrote down a few notes about the session should Bray ever come back.

She leaned back in her chair and glanced at her calendar. Her day was empty and it was still the early morning. She sighed and leaned back even further until the chair creaked under the pressure. She snagged a lollipop and put it in her mouth with a slight grin. The air in Edgetoun was different than back home, not that she'd been home recently. But it felt uniquely full of opportunity. She never had any love for the politics of her people, nor their natures as self-serving brats. Instead, she liked people, even people like Kate. Sure, they were still ignorant and filled to the brim with false importance, there wasn't a doubt about that. But at the same time they were looking out for each other. Kate was a mother worried for her son, her son wanted to make friends. There was a purity about them.

โ€œIโ€™m bored.โ€ The Fae groaned leaning even further back in her chair, before she felt her weight completely shift. She threw her arms out wildly but all the same she crashed into the ground, smacking the back of her head off the wall with a dull thud.

"Fuuuuuuck." Andi sighed rubbing her head.
๐—Ÿ๐—”๐—ก๐—š ๐— ๐—ข๐—ก๐—ฌ๐—˜๐—ง๐—›๐—˜๐—•๐—˜๐—ก๐—š


โ™ชโ™ช


As the sun lazily made its presence known over the horizon Lang Monyethebeng bid his shift, the night and his waning sobriety adieu. He walked into the grocer with a yawn on his lips. Friday nights he had off, so at least there was that. In his left ear was an earbud connected to his cell phone, but he wasnโ€™t listening to music โ€“ at least not to most people. It was music to his ears though.

Well, it wasnโ€™t yet. Right now it was Cara, but Louise hadnโ€™t signed off โ€“ which meant she was probably covering for someone. She was a professional, she always signed off. This meant that he had time to listen to her still while he made his way home until bars opened up. Some Adele song started up and Lang used the momentary distraction to carry out his purchases. At first it was just the essentials, the biggest bottle of Advil he could find, some creamer for his coffee and a bottle of red wine. But upon approaching the counter he realized he had nothing to pair with his beautiful red, but he also only had enough for, like, a dozen bagels.

He grabbed the bagels and continued on his way to the register. In front of him was Eleanor English, easy enough for anyone to recognize. A lot of the other guys at the office made comments about how she looks, but Lang never really saw it. She had kind eyes, but he wasnโ€™t the best judge of character either.

He was going to say something polite, but before he could get it out she was out the door. He tried not to think about it, instead working on producing the proper amount of money as the kid behind the register who got stuck with the crappy shift started ringing everything in. Lang patted his pockets as Adele sung of past loves, he found a few dollars in his shirt pocket and a few other dollars in back right pocket. He mustโ€™ve left his wallet in the cruiser. That was when he noticed a girl standing behind him.

โ€œAh hey.โ€ He started, turning to see who was behind him, putting the money on the shelf as the cashier started to bag everything. โ€œYer one of them high schoolers right?โ€ He drawled.

โ€œOh, no my name is Aoife โ€“ weโ€™ve met a few times actually Iโ€™m studying in pre me-โ€œ The girl started, but Lang wasnโ€™t ready to continue a conversation for that long. Adele was getting towards the end of her song, which meant she was almost back.

โ€œAlright, donโ€™t do drugs Eva.โ€ He said, grabbing his bag behind his back and waving to the cashier to keep any change, with that he took his leave.

Back in the cruiser, he gently put his groceries on the passenger seat and started the vehicle, the Bluetooth FM player in the left cigarette lighter chimed to life as it connected to his phone just in time. "That was Adele's new hit break-up song. Thanks for the request, Sam, and hope you feel better soon! Louiseโ€™s signature โ€˜radio voiceโ€™ as Lang often dubbed it when gushing to others was as spot on as always. But there was more to it than that, he always took a tiny bit of pride when he heard her โ€˜radio voiceโ€™. Because just once, during a late night call he could have sworn she didnโ€™t use it. That was what kept him coming back, those blinks of realness.

Next up is a little something you might recognise, if you're feeling very 90sโ€“โ€“"

Very suddenly the signal shut off and some static came through, before a voice pierced that static and shut every other noise out completely.

Good morning, Britain.

Do you feel a shiver of fear when walking home alone at night? Do you jump at shadows whenever the full moon is out and shining bright? Doesnโ€™t the existence of beings who cannot separate themselves from carnal desires and primal urges frighten you?


Lang listened intently as a madman droned a manifesto. It wasnโ€™t entirely a call to civil war, but it wasnโ€™t so dissimilar. Lang physically felt ill at the mention of witches. Almost as if to confirm what he was he silently shifted a quarter nervously being flicked between his fingers like a poker chip into copper, then into bronze and back. The display was a party trick he often showed off as โ€˜magicโ€™.

Would anyone know, just rom his past that he was?

He ignored it and soon, Louise was back.

"Thatโ€“โ€“ that was an unauthorised broadcast, we truly apologise for the interruption and the show will soon return to our regular programming. But before we do, suffice it to say that On the Edge does not endorse any of the views represented in the previous manifesto, andโ€“โ€“

Her voice was cathartic to him, almost so much so that he considered not polishing the bottle of red off once he was off. But he didnโ€™t think much more about it with the words that followed.

"And though I am but the humble host of everyone's favourite radio show, I personally condemn the call to violence against the Other from these anonymous pirates." The confidence in her voice wasโ€ฆ Well it was certainly there, but it felt pushed. He wasnโ€™t sure if he was reading into things too much, but he felt like it was there.

"At least we'll have something for the listeners to call-in about later. For now, though, let's return to the Top 40..."

With that music would return to the airwaves, and Lang would head back to the station to call it a morning. The sun was now starting to rise over the sleepy town, he could only hope no one had been listening. But, he was and so was Louise.

He made a mental note to call in should her shift last any longer, just to check in.
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