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*Adam waits by the lake. He looks around him, making sure everything is ready. He's a little nervous, and takes a few deep breaths. Everything will go fine. It would. He's Adam, he can do this. He's got everything he needs, and he sits and waits.*
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Adam. What are you looking at?
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I, uh. Your clothes. They're clean now.
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So am I.
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Don't you want these?
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*Adam's head continues to nod as his hands clench the fabric. He looks upwards to meet Pauls eyes and-*
Oh.
oh.
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Just oh?
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Does that mean you're impressed?
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ummmm.
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Is this a British thing?
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Hrmm? Is what a British thing?
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Adam.
Give me my trousers.
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Hmm? What?
*he looks down at the clothes he's nearly torn apart with his hands*
Oh, these?
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*were it actually possible for Adam to turn any more red, he would*
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You, um, Adam?
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*it is unclear whether this is a statement or a question*
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*And Paul is dressed again, squeaky clean, with the addition of a fedora*
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*Adam stands up and brushes his hands on his now-dry clothes*
Well. Then. Right. I guess we'll just, um. Go back in, then.
right.
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And places the fedora on Adam's head with the other.*
Do what you want. Always.
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