Old Fezziwig
Thanks for the sour persimmons, cousin.
Kieran strides up to the door, his smile at its most disarming, his gait and posture at their most dignified. He pauses before he enters, ready to present the slip of paper at any moment, if need be, but more ready to reassert his noble and charming demeanor. I'm fine, how are you? Delighted to be here. Why, yes, I'm a big fan of Pheliben. You look lovely tonight! Perhaps a dance? Wine? I couldn't. Well, fine, to your husband -- may he never find out about us! He grins. Well, it seems I remember some of the things I learned when I was younger. Must remember that toast about the husband... He enters, the slip of paper in his hand.
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