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<title>The Homestuck Epilogues: Meat - Chapter 10</title>
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<h1>Chapter 10</h1>
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<div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm line-caption line-copy pad-x-0 pad-x-lg pad-b-lg">
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<p class="no-indent"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm">J</span>ane
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Crocker sweeps into her office with grace befitting her station and
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slams the door shut behind her. The sun cuts through her venetian
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blinds, painting butter-yellow strips of light all the way from one
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end of her impeccably tailored office to the other. It’s a lovely
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day, like most days, so not terribly remarkable except for the
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horrid news that she has just received at her customary morning
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press conference.</p>
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<p>Jane comes to a brisk stop alongside one of her floor-to-ceiling
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windows—which span a full two-thirds of her office—and brushes her
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hands over her hips to smooth the wrinkles out of her powder-blue
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pencil skirt. Then she hems, haws, puffs out her cheeks, and takes
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a very deep breath before snatching a pillow off the nearest couch
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so that she can scream into it.</p>
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<p>There are, surely, a multitude of ways for a person to find out
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that an acquaintance is running against you in a presidential
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election. From a carapacian reporter, in front of twenty-six other
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members of the interspecies press, was not the method Jane would
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have personally chosen. She is certain that she retained her poise
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and managed not to look too shocked at the news. She did not
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exclaim “What?!” but instead managed to eke out through gritted
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teeth and pursed lips a reasonably thoughtful-sounding
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“Hmmmmmm!”</p>
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<p>She cannot believe that Karkat would do this to her. This is no
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longer a political fiat (which the election would surely have been
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had she run uncontested by any other civilization-founding
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celebrities) but rather a battle between “friends.” What did Vantas
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think he was doing?</p>
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<p>No, no—it’s not Vantas, Jane realizes. This could not have
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possibly been Karkat’s idea. Jane knows Karkat. Not intimately, or
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even casually, but well enough to have made a generalized
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assessment of his basic character over the years. He is not cut out
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for politics, neither intellectually nor in the very important
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matter of social constitution. Certainly not when it comes to
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economic policy. In fact, Jane is pretty sure that Karkat Vantas
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would probably literally burst into flame if too many people
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happened to look at him at the same time, like a vampire walking
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out into the sun.</p>
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<p>Wait. Jane lowers the pillow from her face and stares at her
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brass-and-glass art deco ceiling. Was that vampire thing xenophobic
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against Kanaya? Or whatever it was that Kanaya was supposed to be?
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No, of course not, she assures herself. With trolls it was the
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other way around: vampires were the only members of their species
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who didn’t balk at the sunlight. Another reason Karkat would make a
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poor president. Unless... he ran as the Night President? No, the
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idea is foolish. Best not to give him any ideas. There can only be
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ONE president.</p>
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<p>No, surely this must have been Dave’s idea. The kind of plot
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hatched from their little nest of mutually supportive, codependent,
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interspecies... whatever it was they had going on over there. Dave
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was certainly no Dirk Strider, no Rose Lalonde, no Roxy, but he had
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that same scheming gene, buried deep down beneath his transparent
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onion layers of posturing and, frankly, rather outdated humor. An
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instinct to plan. And despite being inarguably the dimmest of his
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family’s impressive ecto-biological stock...</p>
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<p>Oh, dear. Stock. That’s likely a problematic word, isn’t it?
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Jane thinks. She crosses it off her mental list of “appropriate
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words to say during a press conference.”</p>
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<p>She returns to her train of thought. Despite being the least
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mentally gifted member of his family, Dave has always had an awful
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lot of opinions on the economy. In fact, Jane cannot remember a
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single conversation she’s ever had with him that wasn’t about the
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economy. She thinks back to one time at John’s eighteenth birthday
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when Dave engaged her in a rigorous and rather one-sided debate
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about deregulation and the failure of “neoliberal austerity
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measures” until Karkat had to come over and put his hands over his
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roommate’s mouth to make him stop talking. Come to think of it, of
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the few direct interactions with Karkat she’d ever had, this struck
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her as a truly great act of benevolence toward the common good.
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Maybe... he <em>would</em> make a good president?</p>
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<p>NO! She cannot succumb to such thoughts of weakness. She will
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not.</p>
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<p>Jane tosses the pillow back onto the couch and begins pacing the
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length of her office. This really was a disaster. She knew that she
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was solid on several demographic metrics; the human one, most
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certainly, and the well-to-do carapacian districts. But Karkat was
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incredibly popular in the Troll Kingdom, obviously, and carapacians
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were widely known to be swayed by underdog populism. And the
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consorts? Who had even given them the right to vote in the first
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place? In any other year...</p>
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<p>Jane hops up to sit on her desk and kicks off both her shoes.
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She picks up a pen and begins to chew the end to bits to stop
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herself from doing the same to her lower lip. In any other year,
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this wouldn’t be a problem. She’d be happy to accept a graceful,
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temporary defeat and let Karkat play president for a couple of
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years. After all, unlike her, he was not immortal. But Earth C’s
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paper-thin idyllic history was very close to a boiling point—its
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very first boiling point, in fact, which will have everything to do
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with the problematic nature of troll reproduction. The first
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generation of natural-born trolls obviously cannot be entrusted to
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a troll.</p>
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<p>Which was absolutely not a xenophobic thing to think. It was
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just realistic. The citizens of Earth C were able to rest easy
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knowing that the government held careful rein over the... well,
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over matters of equity. No one could possibly trust something so
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important to a troll, knowing what everyone knew about their
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violent history.</p>
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<p>Losing this election could mean social unrest, protests, even
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war.</p>
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<p>Jane presses her eyes shut and runs her fingers along the
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fine-grain patterns in her mahogany-paneled desk. She is about to
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think something that she has promised herself never to think again.
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In fact, she is about to say it—this horrible, ghoulish, girlish
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thought that used to rule her world and make her so terribly weak.
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The shameful thought is expressed out loud in the form of a
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defeated sigh.</p>
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<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
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<p class="jane">JANE: I need Jake.</p>
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</div>
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<p class="no-indent">She spins around and, still sitting on her
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desk, presses a familiar entry on her phone’s contact list.</p>
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<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
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<p class="jake">JAKE: Ahoy ahoy!</p>
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</div>
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<p class="no-indent">Jane has to suck in a hard breath to stop
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herself from groaning. Why were so many of the finest young minds
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on this planet slaves to this foolish man’s perky glutes?</p>
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<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
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<p class="jane">JANE: Jake! Hello, how are you doing?</p>
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<p class="jake">JAKE: As well as can be i suppose considering that
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i just woke up in the middle of a mafficking ruckus at the stadium
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after getting beaned in the pumper with the ol’ horse tranquilizer
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trick.</p>
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<p class="jake">JAKE: Which i suppose i should have seen coming, as
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dirk has ended all of our matches in this fashion for the past
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week.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: Oh dear. That sounds absolutely terrible,
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Jake. Is there anything I can do to help?</p>
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<p class="jake">JAKE: Help? Gadzooks woman! I hardly think myself
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in need of help.</p>
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<p class="jake">JAKE: Its a jolly good adventure working with
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someone so predictably unpredictable as our good friend dirk!</p>
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</div>
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<p class="no-indent">You would think that Jake enjoyed the
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sadomasochistic nature of his and Dirk’s personal and professional
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relationships. Judging from the last conversation about election
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strategy with Dirk, he seems to be perfectly aware of this feature
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of Jake’s personality. You can’t be too nice when courting his
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endorsement, Dirk would say. He doesn’t respond to nice.</p>
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<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
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<p class="jane">JANE: Be that as it may, Jake, I still do worry
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about you an awful lot.</p>
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<p class="jake">JAKE: Well that is...</p>
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</div>
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<p class="no-indent">On Jake’s end of the line there is a crash,
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followed by a noise that sounds suspiciously like something big and
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hollow and metal connecting with Jake’s head. When Jake comes back
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to the phone, he’s yelling into it. Jane grimaces.</p>
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<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
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<p class="jake">JAKE: ...very sweet of you jane! I appreciate very
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much that you have called me out of the blue to say such nice
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things to me with no ulterior motive!</p>
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</div>
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<p class="no-indent">From anyone else, this would have been a
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portentous statement. However, Jane knows that Jake English could
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not have possibly meant this with anything but the utmost
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sincerity.</p>
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<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
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<p class="jane">JANE: Well, you know that I—</p>
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<p class="jake">JAKE: Because i must note that although i try to
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stay sporting about what comes at me, i cant say that i am chuffed
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about how much of my correspondence lately has to do with the
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marketing of my image.</p>
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<p class="jake">JAKE: Its beginning to feel like all people want
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from me is to stick my derriere on a signpost for their own
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profit.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: Oh, Jake.</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: You’re right. It must be so difficult. For
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you more than the rest of us, due to your, let’s say...</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: Natural gifts?</p>
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<p class="jake">JAKE: Huh?</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: But you know that I have always wanted what’s
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best for you, right?</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: And I am ready to give that to you.</p>
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<p class="jake">JAKE: To give me what?</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: The best, Jake. The very best.</p>
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</div>
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<p class="no-indent">Jake is quiet a moment, and Jane can hear the
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rusty gears turning in his head.</p>
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<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
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<p class="jane">JANE: You should stop by to see me this
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evening!</p>
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<p class="jake">JAKE: Do you mean my evening or yours? Were in
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different time zones right now and i dare say that the sun just
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went down here so if you wanted to have a soiree on my time youve
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missed your chance.</p>
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</div>
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<p class="no-indent">Jane feels her fake smile flexing so hard that
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it was beginning to hurt. Oh yes, she loved this man in basically
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every category that you could possibly love a person, but sometimes
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talking to him is like trying to build a house of cards while
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riding a mechanical bull.</p>
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<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
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<p class="jane">JANE: Mine, of course! I’ll have the best year of
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your favorite crocodile-made scotch flown in from the Consort
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Kingdom and we’ll have a little catch-up.</p>
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</div>
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<p class="no-indent">Jake actually hates scotch, and only drinks it
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for appearance’s sake. But for this—for this unbelievably pivotal
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moment in the history of the planet that they created with their
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bare hands—Jane is willing to spend a few thousand boonbucks to
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watch her old friend pretend to sip at the same glass for a couple
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of hours while prattling on.</p>
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<p>And she’s willing to do more than that, too.</p>
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<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
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<p class="jane">JANE: When’s the last time we’ve done that, just
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you and I?</p>
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<p class="jake">JAKE: You know what? Youre quite right. Its been a
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spell since weve met up without dirk.</p>
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<p class="jake">JAKE: An unforgivably long one at that! Whip me up
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a kipper jane ill be over promptly!</p>
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<p class="jane">JANE: A... kipper?</p>
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</div>
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<p class="no-indent">She considers asking if he intended to request
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that she literally prepare a fish for his arrival. But of course,
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Jake has already hung up.</p>
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<p>With a heavy and somewhat regretful sigh, Jane sets her phone
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down on the desk. Well, she thinks, that’s that. Time to work your
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magic, Crocker.</p>
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</div>
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