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this would have been... august 23rd-ish
But wasn't confronting his problems head-on once his reason for living? Hadn't it given him purpose? He's been drifting, unable to take action, frightened into hiding away. The only time he's come close to his former resolve was when his mind was so clouded with hunger and desperation that he was acting more on instinct than any rational thought. If the Diavolo of the past could see him now... what would he feel? Shame? Disgust?
That's certainly what the Diavolo of the present is feeling. To think that he was once something better than he is now... he'd been so desperate to never fall from his peak. Now the thought of even beginning to ascend to those heights again feels like an impossible dream.
It's late in the evening when he makes his way to the apartments, preferring the unease of walking alone at night to the risk of being seen - or worse, talked to - in the full light of day. He doesn't bring much with him, just the laptop he'd received weeks earlier... and the doll of himself. That's something to be disposed of somewhere safer than he was staying. He'd thought for a moment about bringing some sort of weapon to defend himself should the need arise, but last time it was utterly useless. If the two are doomed to fight then Diavolo dying is a foregone conclusion. Trying to defend himself only prolongs the inevitable.
When he reaches Doppio's apartment he stands at the door for a bit, ruminating on everything that led up to this point. He'd left no message to alert Doppio when he was coming. He hopes that, somehow, catching him off-guard will be to his advantage. He needs all the advantages he can get.
And so with a hand he struggles to contain the tremor in, he knocks.]
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Granted, that may be in part because, as much as he disagrees, he's supposed to be nocturnal. He finds ways to power through the sunlight hurting his eyes, yes, but there isn't much he can do about his body feeling naturally inclined to staying up late because of... melatonin or whatever? That's what it's called, right? Should an undead deer even have melatonin?
Anyway, that's only part of it. The remainder is that he's waiting.
That can be further subdivided, too. Part of him fears that he's already missed the Boss, that his stubborn insistence on working his remaining shifts at the clinic has led to a grievous mistake. The rest of him fears... another outcome that he doesn't dare name. He doesn't want to even acknowledge it.
The Boss told him to wait. He said he'd come. And it hasn't been that long yet, so he has no reason to-- He'd have no reason to think otherwise anyway.
He's lying down when he hears a knock. The next moment, there is the audible thud of a deer man attempting to jump out of bed, getting tangled in his blanket, and falling to the floor.]
I-I'm coming! Be right there, just-- just a minute! [You know, just a second of two to free himself from his embarrassing prison and just sort of throw the blanket back roughly where it's supposed to be, and THEN he can open the door.
When he realises he's looking at the exact person he'd hoped to see, Doppio stops his gaze from going any further up so quickly that he thinks he may have pulled something in his neck, and then it occurs to him that looking at the Boss's chest instead may not be all that much better, and THEN he decides to stop thinking about why before his heart spontaneously starts beating again just so he can have another heart attack. Ultimately he spins on his hooves until his back is turned and lets himself feel some relief.]
Thank goodness! I-- I'm glad you're safe, Boss.
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And then he hears a faint thump and a yell and almost immediately he can envision what just transpired inside. He may not have the details, but he gets the general idea. It's... concerning and relieving in equal measure. There's some sort of comfort to be found in the familiarity, even if he doesn't usually experience it from this... angle.
He brushes these thoughts aside as the door swings open, and the instant it does he hurries in, slamming the door shut behind him. A rash decision, considering the time. It's only after it clicks shut that he realizes he drew more attention with that move than he would have if he took the extra second to close the door quietly. And of course he doesn't want to be out there, where anyone could walk past and see him. But he doesn't want to be in here, either. Even if, for a few weeks, he was able to call it home. Even if it's the closest thing he has to normalcy.]
For now. [An ominous reply.] But are you well, Doppio? I heard a... concerning noise.
[He's stalling. There's no easy way to broach this conversation topic when Doppio is still being so... so... evasive?
...he'd sounded genuinely relieved.]
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Oh, it's fine! I mean, I'm fine. [In fact, for good measure, he throws back the blanket, stretches it over the bed and pats it down flat. Absolutely no absurd accidents here.] Do you wanna sit down, Boss? Um--
[His hand hovers inches over the bed, mid-pat; he looks at the chair by his desk. It goes without saying that the Boss has the freedom of choice, and it might even be a little silly of Doppio to act like he's some kind of house guest. Which... is, nevertheless, what he kind of feels like, even after he's stayed here for several weeks. Or perhaps it's the absence in the interim that brings that feeling back to the forefront of his mind.]
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[He's not here to get comfortable. Diavolo leans his back up against the wall by the door and watches Doppio intently, not allowing any slight movement or shift in posture to go unnoticed. As he watches, he must be making all sorts of undignified expressions (grateful that Doppio doesn't look), chewing on his lower lip as he mulls over how to begin the conversation he actually came here for.
Finally, he decides on:] Doppio. You - we can't - I -
[No. That wasn't what he meant to say at all. Finding the right words has been harder for him, ever since... everything happened. He stumbles around sounds more than he ever did, and it gets so much worse at times like these when every nerve is on edge. Talking to Doppio used to be so easy. An instinct, a reflex, like breathing. This is unnatural. If things were right in the world he wouldn't even have to ask. He'd know. He'd have been there to witness everything. He never would have been hurt. He never could have been hurt.
Inhale. Exhale. If he can close his eyes and pretend for a moment that the two of them are back in Italy - back together - talking how they used to - maybe then he can find the right words. But that feels like a lifetime ago. And Doppio isn't... he can't be, he's so wrong. And so familiar. And when he's the only thing he has left...]
Just... tell me, Doppio, why you did it. I won't be angry with you. You are far too indispensable to me for that. If there's some... behavior I can correct, if there was some action I'd taken that led you to... I need to know. We can speak freely here. You have to tell me. Don't keep me in the dark any longer.
[And he braces himself for the next part, where Doppio, dutiful as ever, will surely spill everything. If being devoured wasn't enough and hearing all his faults and misdeeds echoed back to him is another part of his punishment, then he has no choice but to take it. It will eat away at him forever if he doesn't. He'll have nowhere to return to if he can't fix this.]
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He hasn't turned around, and his hands are still over the blanket; he fidgets, tracing faint lines with his claws as he patiently waits for the Boss to speak.
He listens.
And he doesn't understand.]
What...?
[It's hard to resist the urge to look, but he stops his neck from turning any further before anything more than the Boss's arm can enter his line of sight. It... shouldn't feel awkward to talk with his back turned, not after years of conversations with this very same disembodied voice, and yet.]
I... I'm not sure what you mean, Boss. Sorry. Did I do something wrong in the dollhouse?
local man has no idea whats going on
[The nervousness falters, giving way to irritation. He'd promised he wouldn't get upset, yes - but that was if Doppio was agreeable. Though... his memory was never the greatest. Could he have forgotten this? Is he being deliberately obtuse? If he's truly forgotten then perhaps it's for the best that Diavolo doesn't keep pushing... but the risk that there's something else at play is too much for him to drop the subject.]
It was on the day I... came back. I rushed here immediately and you weren't home. I called and you wouldn't answer. I waited for you but you never came. I went out, on my own, and I searched for you - I needed to know if you'd survived. I made a fool of myself, asking people -
[He hadn't meant to mention that part, but at the moment he is too heated to control what's spilling out. Desperation drives one to do the wildest things. His voice has been steadily rising in volume and he takes a moment to try to calm it. His eyes stay fixed on Doppio but he sees no recognition. He sighs, taking a heavy breath before he continues.]
It was night when when I finally found you, and you... you turned on me and you tore me into pieces. Why, Doppio? What have I done do you? What is it that you want from me?
*men
... You called?
[Here he was, just minutes ago, fearing that he would miss the Boss, and it turns out he already has. Has he ever been so out of it that even a call couldn't wake him up?... Come to think of it, he has no way of knowing the answer to that question, does he? He just assumes that can't be the case, because the Boss has never mentioned having trouble reaching him, to the best of his memory.
... And granted, the best of his memory isn't much. Doppio knows that. But even he wouldn't forget something like this, would he?
His eyes are wide and lost, and it's getting harder and harder to pretend he can't just turn a little more and see the Boss's face right there.]
I... I'm sorry, Boss. I don't...
[What is he supposed to say? The Boss can be wrong sometimes, yes. But to be wrong about something of this magnitude?]
... I-I'm not sure what day that was. But I don't... That couldn't have been me. That wasn't me, Boss. I-I'd never--
[The more he thinks about it, the more he feels as if ice is compressing his ribcage. The mere thought that he could have done this, that he could have... tore him "into pieces" - that he harmed him so severely that he made that post...
Amidst his mounting panic, Doppio winces. For a moment, he gets the impression someone just jabbed an icepick through his skull.]
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[He was certain from nearly the moment he laid eyes on the waldgeist that night. It was dark and so hard to see but he could make out the pink of the fur, the yellow of the eyes, the arms...
But, ultimately, what does that even mean in this world of monsters? There are no Stands here, so why should the presence of markings resembling his mean anything? There are so many things to keep track of and even if this land operates on rules he doesn't know what they all are. There are powers like what he used to have - monsters who can stop time and move freely through it. Who's to say there aren't monsters who can transform themselves into others, or project illusions to try to paralyze their prey with fear while they hunt?]
...It was, I believe, the night of the fourth. I was alone, outside of town, when you - it - spotted me.
[If Doppio still insists it wasn't him, perhaps it's best that he try to entertain other possibilities for the moment. Pressuring him to confess is getting them nowhere.]
It was a large pink-furred beast with a skull for a head and antlers. It charged at me and I... I didn't stand a chance. [Just admitting that feels like opening a wound.]
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[More than apologetic, Doppio sounds afraid. When Javert accused him, it was easy to ignore - of course the cop was either lying or mistaken; of course he didn't know what he was talking about. This is harder to dismiss, because it comes from the Boss - whose word is inherently valuable - and because the evidence he has dismissed so far hits differently when it comes from such a reliable source.
He's shaking. It's hard not to look. He settles for turning to face the Boss but keeping his eyes firmly on the floor.
There is one truth he can tell. This, he knows.]
It... It wasn't the fourth when I woke up. It was later.
[He doesn't remember the exact day anymore. It could have been the eighth, it could have been the tenth.]
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[If any of Diavolo's theories approached the reality of the situation then perhaps he would ease up on the questioning, especially as Doppio is steadily looking and sounding worse as the conversation drags on. He'd feel bad for scaring him (and maybe he will, later) if figuring this out weren't so vital.]
If it truly wasn't you that attacked and... ate me that night, then who? I can only assume that it's someone deliberately trying to impersonate you. It was far more bestial, but the details are... too close. They draw you to mind immediately.
[He thinks again of the patterned arms... and then he thinks of the same pattern on the arms of the plushies in Doppio's museum exhibit, and he thinks of the people here who have witnessed King Crimson personally. It is not impossible that someone could make the connection here and use the imagery to add weight to this hypothetical illusion.]
If I was targeted intentionally - and it's incredibly likely that this is the case, we have enemies with us here - you understand I cannot rest until we uncover and stop the one responsible for this.
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[He knows he hasn't been doing as well when it comes to keeping his days straight without the Boss, but perhaps he hadn't realised just how bad it was until now. It's not surprising, looking at how they'd always operated - no matter where Doppio found himself, a call would inevitably follow, and before long he'd be brought back up to speed - but it sure doesn't help him feel any better. What, so he can't even function without somebody keeping track of the calendar for him, keeping track of whatever the hell he gets up to when he doesn't know?
His heart may not be beating, but the pressure in his chest persists. The headache, luckily, has dulled down, but he can still feel it pulsing softly. The idea that somebody could be impersonating him is... It would be absurd, in any other circumstances, but now that the Boss is here, he has a point - they do have enemies. It isn't impossible.
... Wait a second.]
I... I don't know who it is. I really don't have a clue. But... Boss, this isn't the first time. There is some other pink guy - [another wince, another stab to the side of his head; he presses a hand to it] - a-attacking people out there.
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Are you sure you're alright?
[By this point in the conversation, the sense of dread has ebbed enough that Diavolo doesn't feel the need to stay glued to the door for ease of escape. He came for answers and he only found more questions. Doppio hasn't provided much in the way of information, but, all the same, he hasn't slipped once in his insistence that he wasn't the culprit. Diavolo cautiously steps further into the room, gently in the hopes he doesn't startle Doppio, who is already on edge.
Doppio hasn't shown any aggression, and just talking about this has clearly been bringing a great deal of stress to him. The conviction Diavolo had when he entered the room has wavered with the introduction of other possibilities, and all must be considered. Enlisting Doppio's help investigating other potentials seems like the best course of action. If it were Doppio, willfully or not, remorsefully or not, prodding is producing no results.
If it was him, Diavolo can keep an eye on him, observing and watching for changes in behavior. In the worst-case scenario, he knows people now who may be willing to lend him space again if he needs to leave in a hurry.
And if it wasn't... then they need to figure out the hows and whys of this quickly.]
There have been other attacks? Do you know who and when? Depending on their intentions, there may be some sort of pattern...
[He lets his musing trail off.]
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[Headaches are nothing new for him, after all. Although... They do sometimes precede his episodes, don't they? Should he tell the Boss...? No, maybe not. He doesn't feel dizzy, or... anything else that usually comes with these things. He can't put a finger on it; perhaps if he could, he wouldn't be caught off-guard so often.]
I only know of one other for sure. Javert, that cop I told you about... Actually, remember when I went to the museum last month? He wanted to talk about it again. He said he could prove it, but those bite marks were way too big for my mouth, so I don't know what the hell he was thinking.
[Doppio rolls his eyes with a grumpy pout and crossed arms. He doesn't usually have much good to say about Javert, but if he stopped to think about it right now, he might have to give him some credit - he'd rather think about that asshole cop than this impostor for a bit.]
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The beast was much larger than you. Its teeth were strong enough to... to take off my head. But, Doppio, the similarities are striking enough that even I came to the conclusion that it must be you, and I know you better than anyone else. He can't be faulted for being mistaken, especially if that is the intention here.
[He paces further into the apartment, into the kitchen where he fixes himself a glass of juice. He talks at a low volume while he walks, as though he expects his voice to carry to Doppio regardless of his position.]
I've spoken to him briefly. If he's as invested in the actions of the monsters here as he he seems, he may be a valuable asset to us in the future. But if he's already suspicious of you... I think it would be best for us to keep a safe distance from him for now.
[Then he settles in a chair with the drink and leans forward, resting his chin against a hand deep in thought. Multiple potential explanations still roll around in his brain and no single one has stuck out as the most obvious yet.]
Do you remember when he was attacked? Did he tell you any of the details?
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... But that's still all that it is, isn't it? A name and a face. It matters, of course, because these are things the Boss has protected relentlessly for so long... but it doesn't mean they know him better than Doppio does.
Doppio realises the Boss is moving and his ears twitch, turning in an attempt to capture his voice better. Right. Because they're in the same room. And that is how sound works.
His earlier thoughts and his current thoughts and the laws of physics crash together to abruptly remind Doppio of how overwhelmed he feels, and it takes him a moment or two to remember he's supposed to be saying things.
He wonders if he should reserve that chair for the Boss's exclusive use.]
... It was a while ago. Maybe a year? He said... I don't really remember, but--
[He does remember one thing.
Javert knew where Doppio was injured.]
I... I think it happened after I'd been out of it for a while that time, too.
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[Diavolo was quick to write off Doppio's confusion and disorientation as a side-effect of the revival process, and the discrepancy in the time and location as... perhaps resurrection is just like that, not unlike how the details varied during his own constant stream of deaths.
He himself was disoriented in the days after his revival, though that was more due to a consuming sense of fear. Given the information, the most logical answer consistent with the theory he's examining right now is that Doppio was either attacked deliberately to get him out of the picture for a time, or otherwise his absence was noticed and taken advantage of.
Really, it only makes sense that the beast he saw that night wouldn't want to risk being seen when Doppio is out and about. But as it is, Doppio is left without an alibi.
He stares at Doppio as he waits for a response, his drink nearly forgotten in his hands.]
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[He won't mention it. There's no point in mentioning it. Instead -]
I'm actually talking about, um...
[- he can take comfort in the one thing he always remembers whenever Javert's accusations and other people's disbelief make him second-guess himself.]
... You know... The same old issue.
[It's embarrassing and comforting, all at once, to mention it to the Boss. After all, it's the kind of thing one would imagine might make someone entirely unfit for a position like the one Doppio used to hold, and yet, the Boss always accepted it. More than that, he let Doppio know it was fine.
So, if it was still happening, it had to be fine now too, and it shouldn't mean anything. If he's experiencing something he experienced back home, why on Earth would it have something to do with anything from here?]
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Diavolo tries to keep his expression and tone perfectly still while an icy feeling rises within him. He'd conditioned Doppio to think this was normal. This is not normal, not anymore, this is a sign of something very wrong and he wants to poke and prod until he finds out exactly what, but this is dangerous ground to tread. One misstep, one out-of-place question or display of concern too high for a perceived routine problem, and soon all the years of history between the two of them will begin to unravel. He can't allow that to happen.]
In the weeks we spent together here, you hadn't had any incidents like those of the past. I had... hoped, perhaps, that they'd stopped for good. A mortal problem, purged somewhere between death and this... rebirth, as a monster. But, no. I see.
[When, he wonders, did his perception shift? When did it start mattering what he says and does? At some point he'd stopped wryly thinking of the person standing before him as "zombie deer Doppio", strange and unnatural. He's just "Doppio" to him now, and just like when they were alive, he weaves the same web of lies as though there's something real left to protect with them. Hasn't he has already lost everything? There is no secrecy left to uphold. No amount of lying could ever soothe Doppio and maintain the relationship built up between them if he is only a memory, alone and dead, burning bright in Diavolo's mind.
Why has he started to feel like the Doppio in his memories and the Doppio in this world are one and the same?
He exhales heavily and drops his head down further, palm against his forehead, fingers digging at his hair.]
...It must have been hard to bear alone.
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Oh, that's... Yeah, the timing's kind of different now.
[He's aware that it's different, of course. He just has to take care not to let that awareness cross paths with anything else.]
Actually, I thought they stopped too, for my first month or two. It almost felt wrong, somehow. [Barely a second after the words are out of his mouth, it occurs to Doppio that they might sound a bit strange, and he hurries to clarify:] Not bad, or anything! I just wasn't used to...
[How should he even put it?]
Having so much... time, I guess.
[Something like that. Experiencing every minute and every hour of every day in a week.]
Anyway, I guess maybe they just stopped while I was... I dunno, adjusting or something? I'm used to it, so it's fine.
[It's fine enough, really. Nothing that he wants the Boss to worry about, even if... it would be nice having his help with this particular problem again. Especially with...
It's not as if he's disregarding any potential causes for the difference. Likewise, it's not as if he's ignoring anything he would rather not think about.]
... Sometimes I'm out for about a whole week, though. Um... I guess it's harder to snap out of it on my own, huh?
[It's not as if Vinegar Doppio is used to rationalizing away things that would set off alarms in anybody else's head.]
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But, for obvious reasons, this is something he'll have to investigate on his own. He could keep an eye on Doppio - shadow him, even. Is he still working at that clinic? In that case, maybe not. No. He could call him. Every hour, when he's out. Twice an hour. And if he ever doesn't answer Diavolo will know to immediately come to his aid or - maybe stay far away, depending on the circumstances of these... blackouts.
There's no reason it couldn't be the last theory he posited. This doesn't have to mean anything. This could all be so neatly wrapped up if it turns out Doppio has, by chance, spontaneously developed some sort of fainting disorder. Yes. And someone is anonymously tending to him while he's comatose for a week at a time.]
I can keep an eye on you now. Not... to the same extent I used to, with my power and... influence gone.
[Maybe he could talk Doppio into just... staying home all the time? But, no, if he stays and it happens again there's no guarantee he could get himself to safety fast enough. And, besides, someone has to do the shopping.
What can he possibly ask that won't arouse any suspicion? He's not sure there's a single thing he can ask without first broaching the subject that actually, losing consciousness on the regular is not remotely normal. And the conversation that'd result from that... is a conversation that is never happening. Especially not now that everything between them is a distant memory.
This could be something akin to lycanthropy - there are werewolves here, aren't there? He could be transforming into a beast and forgetting the details and - Diavolo hopes - maybe even forgetting himself in the process? And wasn't there something about the fog? Maybe this is normal. Maybe this happens to everyone. But he can't press Doppio for dates and check them against a record of the weather - it's doubtful he'd remember any of them.
It really is for the best to just pretend that this is business as usual.]
I do worry that someone could be taking advantage of the time you're out. Have you made anyone else aware of your condition?
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Um, a few people know. They usually don't... [take it... well...] Oh, Dr. Hawkeye knows! I kind of had to tell him, since it was making me miss work.
[There shouldn't be any dread creeping up his throat. There's no good reason for it, knowing what he knows.]
He said I should get tested, but I said no. [He laughs, and the sound feels very small somehow, even in this room with only the two of them.] He's from the past, so I'm pretty sure his medical know-how's kind of outdated. I told him it was no big deal and he dropped it, though.
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[He allows himself to trail off there, letting the obvious go unsaid, more a warning than a threat. The more they talk about this topic the more uncomfortable Diavolo becomes with it. Chasing this train of thought is a form of hope to cling to, a chance that this situation isn't as complex as he fears it is underneath. Oh, he'd be willing to pin all of his problems on Giorno Giovanna - an underhanded tactic like this suits the person who joined Passione under false pretense only to dismantle it from the inside out. And it's clear whatever drove him to do that is still present. The permanence of the Stand attack on Diavolo proves that victory alone wasn't enough to satisfy him.
...but the fact remains that Doppio is still blacking out, and, from the sounds of it, the symptoms and the feelings must be similar, even identical, to the ones he's used to, with no explanation for why in sight.
And Diavolo is here, head full of muddled and disorganized thoughts, unable to follow any of them to an answer.]
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[Doppio isn't sure why this is such a concern, given that, as established, he hasn't been experiencing anything out of the ordinary... but the Boss did just mention the possibility that people might take advantage of it, and he must know what he's saying. It's true enough that, as far as he knows, Giorno still works at the clinic - Doppio doesn't want to imagine what might happen if he learned about such a glaring weakness.
That said, for now?]
But... Boss, we need to get back on track! What are we going to do about the bastard who did this to you? Do you need me to start asking questions?
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[Even with how muddled things are in his head, there's a shred of comfort to be found in the familiarity of Doppio's enthusiasm. If he closes his eyes and just listens to the sound of Doppio's voice, perhaps he can manage to convince himself that there's still something right left in the world.
The time they'd spent in each other's presence is mostly a blur in Diavolo's mind. Aside from Doppio's reports (which he'd only half-listened to in his confidence that this would all end at any moment) and the impulsive... embarrassment at the seashore, they'd engaged in nothing remotely resembling their usual sort of business. If the circumstances of everything weren't so bizarre, he might have considered a mission like this a return to normalcy.
As it is... he's not sure how much he wants to encourage Doppio.]
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doppio is being cute (in a gangster kinda way) and im here like (flips switch) breakdown breakdown
cries
i genuinely dont know why this took 10 days
IT HAPPENS SOMETIMES don't worry
LATE AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! too distracted by babby mode
patpat!!!
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