Gideon was sitting on the kitchen counter, on the phone with the local Italian diner, arguing with them about whether or not he wanted alfredo sauce and no, he didn't want the local special, because they put whiskey in the sauce and it was vile, he just wanted plain old regular sauce on the pasta, thanks. He nodded to Orsino as he came in though, waving the elbow that was currently attached to the hand holding the phone to his head as he checked off the list of items they'd decided to order. Good Italian was ridiculously hard to come by in Ireland, he'd found.
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wished,