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Post by Keith the Great on May 3, 2010 18:47:40 GMT -5
Of all the people that could have appeared at the top of the stairs, Keith was rather happy to see Moro, one of the least-likely people to punch him in the face and tell him to stop being a reckless idiot. She sighed a bit, but she didn’t sound really unhappy or anything. It was like when his parents sighed if he came home only an hour late.
“I got ‘im!” Keith chirped in explanation, ignoring the CEDA worker’s weak middle-fingered gesture. Moro disappeared for a moment, then reappeared with gauze in hand. Curious, Keith lifted a hand to his face, shrugging when he felt the trickle of blood. Just a little bump, but it wouldn’t hurt to put a band-aid on it. Just this once, he’d take off the scarf.
The hobo chuckled when he earned the title ‘talented’. “No one’s ever put it that way,” he said with a goofy grin. “Damn, if I’d known I could tackle that good I’da joined a football team.”
Still muffled by the trailing end scarf, the CEDA agent settled for pounding on the ground insistently. Finally recalling why the ground was so soft and squishy, Keith jumped. “Oh, yeah!” he exclaimed. “Might wanna save somethin’ for this guy.” He gave his victim a quick pat on the back that would have been a lot more comforting had he not still been sitting on the poor guy. “Dunno how bad a fall he got.”
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