Morley: A year and a half ago I stumbled into your gingerbread office, a lost, frightened soul in terrified flight across the great yawning terror of doubt—a human being, in short!—and you chanted some hagridden formulas and danged some fylfots...
Kayla's look tended to change with the seasons; at the moment it was less Goth than paramilitary, with laced jump boots.
Lords are Lordlieſt in thir wine; […]
And for my next trick, I will pull a wombat out of a duffel bag.
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