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[Kevin has an inert body draped over his shoulder in an awkward approximation of a fireman's carry.]
John Crichton's in a coma. I'm taking him down to the infirmary. Scorpius, don't bother trying to fuck with him.
[What? He knows the guy wants to cause trouble for Crichton. And this would make it easier for him.]
John Crichton's in a coma. I'm taking him down to the infirmary. Scorpius, don't bother trying to fuck with him.
[What? He knows the guy wants to cause trouble for Crichton. And this would make it easier for him.]
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Do you need any help? He is rather heavy.
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I got it, Chief.
Kevin, I'll be up in a minute.
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I'm fine.
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As you were, then.
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Very well, Kevin. Please take John to the infirmary. I will remain in my cabin for the duration of your errand.
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I'm sure Bruce won't let fetish face anywhere near him.
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I know he won't. Doesn't mean he won't try anyway.
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His ass kicked and his leather suit toasted and then turned into soggy cereal.
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Hey, do you think it'd taste like Cinnamon Toast Crunch?
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Frell.
The infirmary is best.
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