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[ By this time, Elena is slowing limping her way to sector three where she'll hopefully find you sitting at a bar, drowning in bourbon. Why don't you answer your phone, Damon? Or wake up at a reasonable hour?
She's not really in a good mood. But Elena's also not one to complain. (Much. Not about the big things. Little things, on the other hand.) The 411 has already been had, and a lot more 411 she wasn't expecting, so Damon's face is both a relief of no small size and also a familiar reason to get a little snarky.
She stops in her tracks to respond. ]
Me? I'm trekking across an underwater prison with my new best friend. [ She gestures towards her leg. ] Damon, what is going on?