I just want to turn the lights on
#9
((Sweet Christ her accent is reminding me of my grandma something fierce.))

Well, no harm done. Null shrugged, watching as Thirteen removed her hood. Oh, now that was quite the tattoo. The accent seemed stronger, now, perhaps because the girl was more relaxed, trying to actively be more friendly. Null herself found that when she was in certain moods her own speech patterns dropped from carefully articulated and proper to slurred, full of contractions and sometimes only barely comprehensible.

Null stepped forward and shook Thirteen's snowy hand with her own delicate white paw. Right-o. That accent-- some kind of British, no? It seems none of us are local. I'm from Arizona, grew up in Quebec. Rurik's from... St. Petersburg? Yes? Null glanced back at Rurik, who nodded. Yes, St. Petersburg, Russia. We've only lived in the area for a couple of months. How long have you been in this end of the world? Null was slightly more at ease now, but much of her confidence was an act. She was very good at acting, very good at telling barefaced lies.

Rurik visibly settled now that the situation seemed to have been diffused. He still hovered very close to Null, but that was how he always was; if Null couldn't bump against Rurik just by leaning back a fraction, it was because he wasn't there at all. One could easily assume that the two of them were mates.


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