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IC Contact Post [for
savetheearth]
"Aaron Strider. Leave a message."
CLINIC PHONE: XXX-353-7727
"LSR Clinic. Hours are 8AM-10PM weekdays, 10AM-10PM Saturday and Sunday. If this is an emergency, hang up and call 911, or XXX-272-4076. Otherwise, leave your number and a message and your call will be returned tomorrow."
AS OF 2-28-2015, the only way to contact Aaron is through the Network.
NETWORK NUMBER: 43254644263
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Don't steal something.
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[Drawing away, Julien brings out a very tiny phone and texts with deft feathers, moving rapidly.]
I'm paying for it though. Please don't argue, I'm comfortable right now and something made a few years back isn't going to take a big scoop out of that.
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[He also won't ask about the tinyphone.
....he might, however, volunteer some information. Aaron finds he wants to talk. He feels like...there's not much point in holding back, anymore.]
....did you speak with Eliot much, when he was here?
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Eliot... yeah, a little. You know we didn't have much to do with each other, before pulses, when he'd come by. I think I was too silly for him.
[Aaron's stepfather was a very dignified man. Julien knows what he himself had looked like.]
I showed him what my pulses did, it was hard to get him to realize he couldn't send my blood off anywhere, or give me things to get the fever down. I don't think it'd really sunk in yet.
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He's a good physician, but set in his ways.
Did he tell you why I was brought up in his house?
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No. I never asked. [Julien for all his curiosity is good at not asking questions. His family isn't happy; why assume others are? If he knows they are happy, now, bets are off, but his default setting is not to touch the subject.
Idle-looking he pulls a short stool from out of concealment and perches on it, toes curled over the seat.]
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[His voice is still sober, still quiet. He's choosing his words carefully, but they're not coming out unwillingly.]
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Are they why you went to the military? I know it was to pay for med school, but...
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[Julien doesn't need to say anything. Just listening is fine.]
My father joined up to get out of a bad situation. His family was --
[He shakes his head.]
-- less than respectable, to put it mildly. The military was his way out.
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All right.
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So you can see why she should hear this from me, and not another relative.
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No kidding. Is phone the only way you can contact her? Will she ask Elliot?
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[He studies Aaron opaquely.]
Your voice is different, a little bit. It's still recognizable.
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[His head ducks, just slightly, and he lets out a breathy half-laugh that has no humor in it at all.]
He'll be disappointed. He always said I should be doing something more respectable, running a more stable practice.
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[Julien comes back over with his head and neck feathers lifting. And steals a bite of waffle. Clink!]
It can't balance everything, but of all the shady practices to walk into, I'm glad I picked yours.
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Shady Doctor Strider is glad you did, too.
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[clink! yeah not bothering with a fork here.]
You should know a couple people have asked me about you. I have no idea where you are, and I'm looking, and I'm convinced everything is slander. Or... libel? I forget the difference.
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Slander is spoken, libel is written. Not that it matters; I'm being subjected to both.
[Aaron sounds less worn out, for now.]
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[There are things Julien wants to ask, but he doesn't want to weigh him down more. It'll wait.]
You're taller, aren't you?
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I am, though I'm not sure exactly how much. About six inches, I'm guessing.
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[He was while harpy-shaped. Since changing the rest of the way his height depends on posture. Julien uses his neck to nudge Aaron while stealing another bite.]
...I am allowed to be that petty. Anyway. Clothes. Original owner's about five eight, the godson's six three, I still have some pants around that might work.
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[The money doesn't seem to worry him.]
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You think things'll have settled some more by then?
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[He lifts the fingers on one hand.]
I can't be fingerprinted, either.
[They're different.]
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good to end it here-ish?
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