[So he looks similar, the same almost, she notes as she scrutinizes him for a moment while unflinchingly remaining reclined. Her toes flex, feet crossed at the ankle and up on the table's edge ready to slide back onto the floor. She picks at a piece of metal on the hard drive with a long, thick blue nail.]
Careful, you might fry something. [There's no familiarity here, no friendly tones for you Scott.]
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marinanova,