Kalim pulls his knees up to his chest, not looking at Jamil either. He's already made his peace, as much as he can, with the harsh truth that Jamil won't be with him forever. He's had half a year to get used to the thought, even if it still hurts. But it does feel a bit like having the scabs ripped off, to try to convince Jamil to do what he's spent all this time dreading.
"There's a lot of things I don't know how to do," he says. "That's why I want to learn. Just because you don't know how you're going to do it..." He glances sideways at Jamil, but looks away just as quickly. "Isn't it better to work it out now, instead of when we go on our internships, or after school?"
Jamil expects to feel a flare of anger at Kalim's words, but instead a bone-deep fatigue settles over him. This is familiar territory after all: having to break Kalim's heart with a dose of reality. It's almost cute he seems to think they won't be shackled together until death.
"There's no point. Kalim..." Jamil sighs. "You know you can't actually dismiss me without causing a huge scandal, don't you? It hasn't been done for generations."
Kalim does look up at him now, almost shocked to hear that Jamil hasn't also been anticipating going their separate ways after they graduate. It's been basically a certainty to him since winter break.
His expression goes from startled to folorn – and then turns determined. He's been bracing himself for Jamil leaving – the idea of him being forced to stay in his service, miserable, for the rest of their lives, is far more horrifying to contend with, and he refuses.
"I don't care!" He clenches his fists. "I don't care who I have to persuade, or how mad people get, or any of that!"
There's the anger. Of course: nothing pisses Jamil off more than Kalim sticking his fingers in his ears rather than accept reality.
"I do! It's not just me in the middle of this, in case you forgot!" This is Kalim's whole problem. He never has to consider the consequences of his impulses because he is never the one who has to endure them. "You think I want my parents to be ashamed of me? A dismissal is a stain on our whole family's reputation and that will be my fault. Except I won't be the one they punish for it!"
And that's probably enough to get his point across, but Jamil got to his feet in a fury at some point and he's kind of on a roll now. "And fine, say you dismiss me, then what? There's no replacement for me. I'm your bodyguard too, remember? Maybe you can figure how to put your socks on yourself but I keep you alive. No one knows you like I do. You're my responsibility and you can't just--just--give that away!"
Jamil breathes hard in the wake of his rant, his own words ringing in his ears--and then goes bright red as he processes what he just said. For once, though, he doesn't try to hide his embarrassment from view; instead he crosses his arms and looks Kalim dead in the eye, almost as if in defiance. He can't take the words back, so the only option left is to stand by them, as humiliating as they are.
Kalim looks about to protest – he wants to argue that there has to be some other way around the dismissal problem, that they can figure it out – but Jamil keeps talking, and successfully shuts him up.
Of course he's thought about that. Of course he knows no one can take care of him like Jamil does. Jamil is the only person in his life who he's really, genuinely, completely sure he can actually trust, even after everything that happened last year. Kalim is terrified of what his life is going to look like with someone else trying to do Jamil's job, and half certain that whatever it does end up looking like, it won't last very long. He's already resigned to that; he's already been trying not to think about it.
He shrinks in on himself a little, still sitting on the edge of the bed. He's so caught up in shit he normally does his best to ignore that it takes a moment for those last words to sink in – he actually notices Jamil's flushed face and indignant glare first, and thinks, stupidly, Why is he embarrassed? before his brain catches up to his ears.
He blinks, dislodging a few tears, and stares back at him.
"...I don't want to," he says wretchedly. "Jamil, I know it'll be awful, I know they'll do a terrible job, I know you're better than anyone else, but – otherwise you'll be sad forever. That's worse."
Jamil isn't sure what he expected instead. Kalim to concede, maybe. Admit he hadn't really thought the implications through and try to backtrack into another argument that Jamil would have to pick apart. It hadn't crossed his mind that Kalim could have actually considered the natural conclusion to this idea and decided it was acceptable.
It stuns him to realize Kalim's attachment to him could extend this far. In Jamil's experience, that fondness had only ever meant demands on his attention without any regard for his actual feelings on the matter. Over the years, it had been easy to dismiss that disregard as the same thoughtless entitlement that plagued the majority of the Asims, irrespective of how Kalim claimed to see their relationship. It's easy to profess friendship when you're never the one who has to make the sacrifices, after all.
But here is Kalim saying he would sacrifice his own safety for Jamil's happiness, and he doesn't know what to do with that information.
"I wou--" Jamil cuts himself off before he can finish the sentence. Not even under pain of death is he going to admit that right now. The fact is, it doesn't really matter how either of them feel about it. "You're the only one who cares about that. I don't know what else to tell you."
"That's not true!" Kalim's eyes well up with a fresh crop of tears. Who needs his signature spell back, honestly! "And even if it was, that doesn't matter! I still care about it! What's the point of any of it if I can't make you happy?"
Jamil inhales sharply with shock. He hadn't realized Kalim feels this strongly about this; they'd never really talked about anything that happened. After the disaster of a stunt Jamil pulled over winter break, he'd considered himself lucky to return to the way things were without further repercussions. He'd long since resigned himself to the fact that Night Raven College had been his only chance to pretend at freedom, if only temporary, and he'd already blown that shot. He'd just assumed Kalim had understood the same, and was carrying on with the same silly, flighty, thoughtless, cavalier attitude with which he does everything.
This simple revelation of Kalim's priorities is too overwhelming for Jamil to process. Kalim can't just say things like that. Does he even know how he sounds?
(Of course he doesn't. That's Kalim's privilege, that he can just say whatever he wants without a care what it might mean to other people.)
Standing over Kalim while he's pathetically curled up on the bed suddenly feels exhausting for some reason, but Jamil doesn't really want to sit back down next to him either, so he compromises by sliding down the opposite wall to sit on the floor. There, now they both look pathetic.
"That's not up to you."
He doesn't know what else to say; this isn't a distress he actually knows how to soothe, because the heart of the problem is still that what Kalim wants is impossible. Even if it was up to Kalim, Jamil doesn't even know what "happy" looks like for him. He's certain it isn't anything Kalim could give him.
Kalim watches him fold down to the floor and he wants to get down from the bed to join him but he can't. He feels locked in place by his uncertainty, so unmoored by everything Jamil has said to him that no action seems safe to make.
"So -- so what, then? I'm just supposed to watch you be miserable, for the rest of our lives--?"
Jamil feels like he should be satisfied that Kalim seems to finally get it, but strangely enough, seeing Kalim cry has never felt like the victory it should. Mostly Jamil just feels like shit. Not enough to get up there and coo at him the way he'd be expected to, but he doesn't really love the conclusion they've reached here either. At least now they're finally on the same page about it.
And, well. Kalim isn't the only one doing some reassessing. Maybe this is a conversation they should have had a long time ago.
"I could say the same thing to you," he says, keeping his voice neutral. He's not trying to start another argument. "I... didn't realize you were that serious about it."
Kalim looks up in surprise. He was expecting some kind of mean remark. It's unusual for Jamil to admit he misunderstood something.
"Ah... Haha. Yeah, well. I just figured I had to sell my dad on it, you know?" He wipes the back of his wrist over his face. "You're so talented. If they let you go off to do other stuff, then...it'd be really good for our family to have that connection to whatever you end up doing, especially if my kids end up having magic too..." Kalim smiles dejectedly. "He gets really excited whenever I mention his grandkids. I thought it could work."
It's a nice thought. Jamil tilts his head back and lets himself imagine it for a moment--being some Asim business contact, in their service only as a formality, free to go wherever he wants. He doesn't entertain it for long. Even supposing the rest of Kalim's family could be convinced to just let one of their bespoke personal retainers fly the coop--supposing the rest of his own family could handle the news without dying of shock--something about the idea feels so incomplete that he can't fathom it ever materializing. Like it's missing something fundamental. It just... wouldn't work.
So. A nice thought is all it is.
"You can't do all that just for me." Despite his words, Jamil's tone is matter-of-fact, rather than chiding. "I'm just your servant, Kalim. It would disrupt too much to ever be worth it. And don't say you don't care, that still matters regardless of how much you don't want it to."
Kalim drops his forehead to his knees, clenching his fingers in the fabric of his cardigan, and lets out a long breath.
"It wouldn't just be for you," he says. "I think... if I had to spend the rest of my life watching you stuck like that, I..." He turns his head to the side, cheek pressed against his leg, and looks at the wall. "I don't know. I don't know what I'd do."
Jamil's heart clenches. He needs Kalim to stop saying things like that. Like--like it affects him in any way that Jamil might end up trapped in a job he hates. Jamil's the one who actually has to live it and he's been resigned to this since he was a child. The sooner Kalim comes to terms with what he should have realized the entire time, the sooner they can all get on with their sordidly predetermined little lives. Why does he even care?
It was almost easier when Kalim didn't know; then at least one of them was living in blissful ignorance. Now nothing has changed except both of them are miserable.
(Well, there's really only one person to blame for that one, huh?)
"Just laugh it off like you do with everything else. What makes this any different?"
Kalim lifts his head, jerkily, like he's been slapped.
He feels at once ashamed that that's his habit, when Jamil's scorn for it is so obvious, and ashamed that he can't just smile and move on from this regardless. It's hitting him suddenly that his feelings are making this difficult, when Jamil obviously thinks it doesn't need to be. Nobody else is making a fuss over this. What does he have to complain about? Isn't this just like the rest of it, part of the price he has to pay, like his dad says, for living such a charmed life?
It's not like everything else, though. It's not like when something bad happens to him and he has to just put it behind him as quick as he can so nobody has to worry about him -- he's not the one who's suffering, and it's never over.
He takes an unsteady breath, managing to regain some of his footing.
"It's different because it's you," he replies, as if that was a neutral question and not a mean jab. "And you'd hate it if I did that, anyway."
Jamil resolutely tries not to feel bad that his remark apparently hit home and mostly fails at it. He pulls up his legs and wraps his arms around his knees, a mirror to Kalim's position. It strikes him as darkly appropriate that Kalim is on the bed and he is on the floor in his own room, even as he feels no real ownership over it.
"Since when do you care so much about how I feel?" This time, it is an honest question. Kalim has always craved Jamil's approval, sure; always demanded his attention, always wanted to be the center of Jamil's world the way that Jamil unwillingly seemed to be Kalim's, but actually caring what Jamil wants? Where was this whenever Kalim wanted to throw last minute parties or dismissed Jamil's every safety precaution or followed him to fucking school in the first place?
"Um," he says. "Since all this...nearly killed you?"
And, well, he did worry before that, but... it was always so easy to just brush it off and take everything for granted, when Jamil never got seriously mad at him. When it always seemed like it was forgiven so easily, because Kalim couldn't imagine how a person could go on taking such diligent care of someone if they were truly mad at them.
Oops!
"I didn't get it before," he adds. "But... I guess I kind of still don't. Haha."
Jamil doesn't have anything to say to that--it's true, as far as he's concerned. It also doesn't change anything about the impasse they're currently at, but at least Kalim is aware of that now, or so he says. For several long moments Jamil just sits there and lets Kalim sniffle into the silence. Then, finally, he sighs and hauls himself to his feet, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes in a rare blatant show of tiredness.
"At least we're on the same page now." Even if that's not true, maybe if Jamil says it firmly enough Kalim will believe him and they can both go to bed. "So can we stop with this nonsense? I'm tired of pretending I'm not constantly mending your sweater."
In the doorway, leaning silently against the entrance into the room, is one specific fae. His arms are resting around himself, one hand resting against his arm. When had he got there? How long had he been standing there? Why was there no sound to indicate he was there at all in the first place?
A plethora of questions can be asked - later. For now, he finally makes himself known.
"Boys," Lilia begins, his gaze somewhat softer than what one might imagine from him. That or its all in their heads, "You are aware that you're quite loud, yes?"
He peers between them both, as if assessing... something. Hard to tell what. But. Feel seen.
Lilia's appearance catches Jamil completely by surprise, so naturally his reaction is to whirl around with his hand raised like he's about to attack.
--Presumably Lilia would easily have been able to dodge him, but Jamil comes to his senses quickly enough to not actually try and hit him, but it's a very strong impulse.
Kalim had already been halfway through straightening up in surprise over what Jamil said about his sweater (although that does explain some things, and maybe he just wasn't letting himself wonder about it too hard) when Lilia announces himself, and he actually jumps a little. Next to Jamil his reaction seems positively restrained, though...
"L-Lilia??" He covers his mouth with his hand. Didn't he close the door...? (He did not close the door.)
Lilia doesn't even flinch when Jamil's hand is raised, although a perceptive eye (which, may be neither of them right now) would be able to catch the slight tensing of his muscles, the preparation to move out of the way or block any attack.
Good reflexes on that one. He's proud.
"Mm, long enough." Lilia replies easily, "Not that I needed to stand right here to hear the two of you."
Give him a second to finish his assessment, before he brings up a hand to wave it at the two. "You've such a complex relationship and such a difficulty talking about it. You both have so much to learn about each other. Don't waste your time by arguing, that will get you no where. You need to give yourselves the time and space to listen, with clear heads." And, with that, he pushes off the wall, standing up properly.
"Do either of you want some tea? Something herbal, perhaps...? I'll start some~" And he's moving to grab the doorknob on his way, planning to close the door for them.
Jamil stands there gaping like a fish, caught between still reeling from Lilia's sudden presence, embarrassment at how much he possibly heard, and irritation that he'd ring in at all when he has no idea how complicated this actually is, thanks! How could he possibly relate!!!
He isn't so tired he can't keep himself from running his mouth, though, and it occurs to him a split second later that Lilia has actually given him the perfect opportunity to escape this situation. How generous of him!
"That's all right, I can make the tea. We should all be getting back to bed, I think." OK great that's settled he'll be leaving the room first thanks.
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"There's a lot of things I don't know how to do," he says. "That's why I want to learn. Just because you don't know how you're going to do it..." He glances sideways at Jamil, but looks away just as quickly. "Isn't it better to work it out now, instead of when we go on our internships, or after school?"
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"There's no point. Kalim..." Jamil sighs. "You know you can't actually dismiss me without causing a huge scandal, don't you? It hasn't been done for generations."
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His expression goes from startled to folorn – and then turns determined. He's been bracing himself for Jamil leaving – the idea of him being forced to stay in his service, miserable, for the rest of their lives, is far more horrifying to contend with, and he refuses.
"I don't care!" He clenches his fists. "I don't care who I have to persuade, or how mad people get, or any of that!"
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"I do! It's not just me in the middle of this, in case you forgot!" This is Kalim's whole problem. He never has to consider the consequences of his impulses because he is never the one who has to endure them. "You think I want my parents to be ashamed of me? A dismissal is a stain on our whole family's reputation and that will be my fault. Except I won't be the one they punish for it!"
And that's probably enough to get his point across, but Jamil got to his feet in a fury at some point and he's kind of on a roll now. "And fine, say you dismiss me, then what? There's no replacement for me. I'm your bodyguard too, remember? Maybe you can figure how to put your socks on yourself but I keep you alive. No one knows you like I do. You're my responsibility and you can't just--just--give that away!"
Jamil breathes hard in the wake of his rant, his own words ringing in his ears--and then goes bright red as he processes what he just said. For once, though, he doesn't try to hide his embarrassment from view; instead he crosses his arms and looks Kalim dead in the eye, almost as if in defiance. He can't take the words back, so the only option left is to stand by them, as humiliating as they are.
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Of course he's thought about that. Of course he knows no one can take care of him like Jamil does. Jamil is the only person in his life who he's really, genuinely, completely sure he can actually trust, even after everything that happened last year. Kalim is terrified of what his life is going to look like with someone else trying to do Jamil's job, and half certain that whatever it does end up looking like, it won't last very long. He's already resigned to that; he's already been trying not to think about it.
He shrinks in on himself a little, still sitting on the edge of the bed. He's so caught up in shit he normally does his best to ignore that it takes a moment for those last words to sink in – he actually notices Jamil's flushed face and indignant glare first, and thinks, stupidly, Why is he embarrassed? before his brain catches up to his ears.
He blinks, dislodging a few tears, and stares back at him.
"...I don't want to," he says wretchedly. "Jamil, I know it'll be awful, I know they'll do a terrible job, I know you're better than anyone else, but – otherwise you'll be sad forever. That's worse."
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Jamil isn't sure what he expected instead. Kalim to concede, maybe. Admit he hadn't really thought the implications through and try to backtrack into another argument that Jamil would have to pick apart. It hadn't crossed his mind that Kalim could have actually considered the natural conclusion to this idea and decided it was acceptable.
It stuns him to realize Kalim's attachment to him could extend this far. In Jamil's experience, that fondness had only ever meant demands on his attention without any regard for his actual feelings on the matter. Over the years, it had been easy to dismiss that disregard as the same thoughtless entitlement that plagued the majority of the Asims, irrespective of how Kalim claimed to see their relationship. It's easy to profess friendship when you're never the one who has to make the sacrifices, after all.
But here is Kalim saying he would sacrifice his own safety for Jamil's happiness, and he doesn't know what to do with that information.
"I wou--" Jamil cuts himself off before he can finish the sentence. Not even under pain of death is he going to admit that right now. The fact is, it doesn't really matter how either of them feel about it. "You're the only one who cares about that. I don't know what else to tell you."
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This simple revelation of Kalim's priorities is too overwhelming for Jamil to process. Kalim can't just say things like that. Does he even know how he sounds?
(Of course he doesn't. That's Kalim's privilege, that he can just say whatever he wants without a care what it might mean to other people.)
Standing over Kalim while he's pathetically curled up on the bed suddenly feels exhausting for some reason, but Jamil doesn't really want to sit back down next to him either, so he compromises by sliding down the opposite wall to sit on the floor. There, now they both look pathetic.
"That's not up to you."
He doesn't know what else to say; this isn't a distress he actually knows how to soothe, because the heart of the problem is still that what Kalim wants is impossible. Even if it was up to Kalim, Jamil doesn't even know what "happy" looks like for him. He's certain it isn't anything Kalim could give him.
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"So -- so what, then? I'm just supposed to watch you be miserable, for the rest of our lives--?"
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"I guess so," he snaps. "What do you want me to say? We covered this months ago, it shouldn't be news to you by now."
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Oh. Right.
This entire time, then, that's all this change has meant to Jamil? That now Kalim knows about it?
He pushes the tears out of his eyes with the heel of his palm and tries to make himself laugh, but it just comes out as a tragic little hiccup.
"I still really don't know how to read you, huh..."
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And, well. Kalim isn't the only one doing some reassessing. Maybe this is a conversation they should have had a long time ago.
"I could say the same thing to you," he says, keeping his voice neutral. He's not trying to start another argument. "I... didn't realize you were that serious about it."
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"Ah... Haha. Yeah, well. I just figured I had to sell my dad on it, you know?" He wipes the back of his wrist over his face. "You're so talented. If they let you go off to do other stuff, then...it'd be really good for our family to have that connection to whatever you end up doing, especially if my kids end up having magic too..." Kalim smiles dejectedly. "He gets really excited whenever I mention his grandkids. I thought it could work."
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So. A nice thought is all it is.
"You can't do all that just for me." Despite his words, Jamil's tone is matter-of-fact, rather than chiding. "I'm just your servant, Kalim. It would disrupt too much to ever be worth it. And don't say you don't care, that still matters regardless of how much you don't want it to."
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"It wouldn't just be for you," he says. "I think... if I had to spend the rest of my life watching you stuck like that, I..." He turns his head to the side, cheek pressed against his leg, and looks at the wall. "I don't know. I don't know what I'd do."
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It was almost easier when Kalim didn't know; then at least one of them was living in blissful ignorance. Now nothing has changed except both of them are miserable.
(Well, there's really only one person to blame for that one, huh?)
"Just laugh it off like you do with everything else. What makes this any different?"
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He feels at once ashamed that that's his habit, when Jamil's scorn for it is so obvious, and ashamed that he can't just smile and move on from this regardless. It's hitting him suddenly that his feelings are making this difficult, when Jamil obviously thinks it doesn't need to be. Nobody else is making a fuss over this. What does he have to complain about? Isn't this just like the rest of it, part of the price he has to pay, like his dad says, for living such a charmed life?
It's not like everything else, though. It's not like when something bad happens to him and he has to just put it behind him as quick as he can so nobody has to worry about him -- he's not the one who's suffering, and it's never over.
He takes an unsteady breath, managing to regain some of his footing.
"It's different because it's you," he replies, as if that was a neutral question and not a mean jab. "And you'd hate it if I did that, anyway."
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"Since when do you care so much about how I feel?" This time, it is an honest question. Kalim has always craved Jamil's approval, sure; always demanded his attention, always wanted to be the center of Jamil's world the way that Jamil unwillingly seemed to be Kalim's, but actually caring what Jamil wants? Where was this whenever Kalim wanted to throw last minute parties or dismissed Jamil's every safety precaution or followed him to fucking school in the first place?
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"Um," he says. "Since all this...nearly killed you?"
And, well, he did worry before that, but... it was always so easy to just brush it off and take everything for granted, when Jamil never got seriously mad at him. When it always seemed like it was forgiven so easily, because Kalim couldn't imagine how a person could go on taking such diligent care of someone if they were truly mad at them.
Oops!
"I didn't get it before," he adds. "But... I guess I kind of still don't. Haha."
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"At least we're on the same page now." Even if that's not true, maybe if Jamil says it firmly enough Kalim will believe him and they can both go to bed. "So can we stop with this nonsense? I'm tired of pretending I'm not constantly mending your sweater."
boys oh boys....
A plethora of questions can be asked - later. For now, he finally makes himself known.
"Boys," Lilia begins, his gaze somewhat softer than what one might imagine from him. That or its all in their heads, "You are aware that you're quite loud, yes?"
He peers between them both, as if assessing... something. Hard to tell what. But. Feel seen.
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--Presumably Lilia would easily have been able to dodge him, but Jamil comes to his senses quickly enough to not actually try and hit him, but it's a very strong impulse.
"How long have you been there?!"
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"L-Lilia??" He covers his mouth with his hand. Didn't he close the door...? (He did not close the door.)
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Good reflexes on that one. He's proud.
"Mm, long enough." Lilia replies easily, "Not that I needed to stand right here to hear the two of you."
Give him a second to finish his assessment, before he brings up a hand to wave it at the two. "You've such a complex relationship and such a difficulty talking about it. You both have so much to learn about each other. Don't waste your time by arguing, that will get you no where. You need to give yourselves the time and space to listen, with clear heads." And, with that, he pushes off the wall, standing up properly.
"Do either of you want some tea? Something herbal, perhaps...? I'll start some~" And he's moving to grab the doorknob on his way, planning to close the door for them.
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He isn't so tired he can't keep himself from running his mouth, though, and it occurs to him a split second later that Lilia has actually given him the perfect opportunity to escape this situation. How generous of him!
"That's all right, I can make the tea. We should all be getting back to bed, I think." OK great that's settled he'll be leaving the room first thanks.
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