Ah... hmm. [Shanks takes another drink before relinquishing his bottle over to Buggy.] Well, I don't think I'm flashy, or extravagant... To me, it means I can do what I want to do. And right now I want to be in this room, with you. Is that okay with you? [Cue an admittedly slightly drunken looking grin and Shanks lifting his fingers from the floor to touch the back of Buggy's closer hand.]
[Shanks pouts and with some reluctance, draws his hand back so he can take the bottle. Although he doesn't drink from it just yet. For a clown he can be very mercurial and very unhappy... although Shanks doesn't want to set Buggy off so he doesn't point that out.]
I'm not making you stay if you don't want to. But I would like your company, if you would like mine too. There's no titles here - just me and you. [Old friends or... whatever it is they are.]
[And if Shanks wants to see him nicer and happier, he'll need to let him toss a few more drinks back. Not his fault if Shanks makes him a tad grumpy after all.]
So, Red Hair, beyond your altruism, how else have you been entertaining yourself?
It wouldn't kill you to be kind, every once in a while. [Although at the mention of his 'altruism', Shanks does scoot over and show Buggy his hand. It's clearly been hard at work with little cuts and scratches. There's some bruising on his forearm, too.]
Look at this! I don't think I'm cut out for all this hard work... You know I nearly lost my hand to this rusty nail. It's going to be so hard to sail with no hands. [Because that's clearly the main concern when you almost Jesused yourself.]
Kind pirates are dead pirates, one way or another. You would think you'd have learned this. Or was the arm not enough to teach you? [Despite his words, there's obvious concern when he sees the state of that hand, reaching out to take it in his own, carefully running a thumb over some of the bruising.]
Are you an idiot? What were you thinking! [Honestly. Idiot red head.] Stop trying to lose things behind my back!
[Yes, clearly, Shanks lost his left hand to spite him. Don't try to tell him otherwise!
His thumb rubs over the palm of his hand, soothing gently.]
[Shanks sulks but otherwise doesn't say anything that might risk Buggy taking his attention off of his hand. Looks to him like Buggy is showing him a little morsel of kindness right now. And Buggy is very much alive. (So is Shanks - for now at least. Ask him later when he's drunk and fallen in a ditch somewhere.)
Why does everyone think that he lost his arm just to spite them...]
Sorry... [Don't mind him while he grins sheepishly and takes the opportunity to move in closer until he can rest the side of his head against Buggy's shoulder. He doesn't smell nearly as drunk as he's acting, but. Semantics. He's always some state of disheveled and moves like a heat-seeking missile.]
[Once he's satisfied that Shanks' lone hand isn't about to fall off from infection or something, he seems content to just hold on for a second. At least until he has a red head flopping on to his shoulder. He pauses, arching an eyebrow as he looks at Shanks from the corner of his eye.]
What are you doing? [Besides using him as a pillow, that is.] If you invited me up to be your pillow, you could at least make sure I'm comfortable first...
Hmm? Aren't you comfortable? [Shanks practically made a bed on the floor. They might not be sitting on a mattress but it's almost pillow fortress level comfort.]
Here, finish it. [He drags the bottle of booze over, nudging it in front of Buggy. Let it not be said that he plies unsuspecting friends with alcohol... but hopefully finishing the whole thing will temper Buggy's irritable mood and get him to relax a bit. Enjoy this moment with Shanks.]
They'll let us spend the night here, so. Don't worry about getting drunk. [Because it's safe to assume Buggy has no life and no plans for the rest of the week, right?]
[Why are they on the floor, anyway! But fine, whatever. He takes the bottle of booze and takes a deep swig from it. He'll never turn down booze, after all.]
If you insist. [Alcohol does usually brighten his mood a little.]
Are you trying to get me drunk, Red Hair? [HE huffs out a laugh.] Maybe I should have been a little more suspicious of your motives!
[Shorter distance to fall if they're already on the floor, of course.]
I'm trying to get you to relax. It's different! [Shanks cracks a grin and invites himself to lie down, rest his head in Buggy's lap even though he could be using any number of pillows instead.]
Were you having fun down there? [Shanks might reconsider, if Buggy would rather be back downstairs. He didn't seem to mind drinking alone up here without him. But he does seem to want the company, even though Buggy won't let him say it without threatening violence or getting himself into hard and tight twists.]
I can't relax, because you're always too relaxed. One of us has to be the practical one here!
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I can't relax, because you're always <i>too</i> relaxed. One of us has to be the practical one here! <small.[Or they'd both end up with knives in their backs... and okay, that wouldn't hurt Buggy, but Shanks is not so lucky.
He huffs quietly, watching as Shanks gets comfortable. He brought this on himself -- Buggy is totally reaching down to start detangling that mop of red hair.]</small>
It was fine. <small>[But no regrets about coming up either.]</small> Can't you get one of your crew to brush your hair? It could actually be pretty if you kept up with it.
[But Buggy doesn't care if Shanks gets hurt, right? Buggy doesn't care at all about Shanks, as he's reiterated time and time again. So what's the problem with a knife or twelve in his back? Or the tangled mess of windswept and dried out, saltwater-tarnished hair?
The suggestion makes Shanks chuckle although he does try his best to hold still now that Buggy is attempting the impossible.]
I suppose I could. [That's not really what a crew is for, though. He has always done his best to manage on his own. He doesn't care much if anyone perceives him as weak or 'less than', somehow, for it, but he would hate to let on how difficult some of the little everyday things in life is with one hand. Besides, he's made his choice, he now has to live with it, right?]
No amount of attention could make my hair as pretty as yours though, Buggy. [Between that and the face makeup, he really does spend a lot of time keeping up appearances - literally and figuratively.] Besides, I don't think it matters. With these scars... [If he's supposed to be some big, scary, formidable emperor, live up to some reputation everyone else thinks he should have, the last thing anyone will notice is whether he conditions his hair.]
[Of course he doesn't care! Why would he care? It isn't as if he cares or anything. Clearly. But here he is, regardless, working out stupid knots from that stupid red hair, listening to him chatter away.
And if a crew isn't to help you in the areas you lack, what is a crew for anyway? Even if it means having to ask for a stupid hand to straighten your hair... Not that he points that out.
The remark on his hair has his lips twitching up though. He's always been rather easy when it comes to compliments...]
Most would probably insist yours is prettier, dumbass. [But Buggy does put a lot of care into his hair, into his appearance in general.]
Hmm... [He reaches to brush his fingers over the scars that trail over his face, thoughtfully.]
Even the scars don't take away from how you look. Absolutely unfair. [How does Shanks manage to be attractive, even though it looks like he came close to losing a whole eye?]
[One might even argue that he would somehow look even more attractive if he lost that whole eye. (Don't get any ideas, Buggy...)]
'Unfair'? [That gets a good snicker out of Shanks.] Are you calling me handsome? [What a rare... backwardsy compliment coming from Buggy! He'll take it, even if Buggy had meant to insult him. It's hard to get anything nice out of these seafarers.]
I mean, I'd take 'pretty' too, of course... unless you're going to start using some of that lipstick on me. [He's not entirely certain that Buggy's grown out of drawing dicks on his cheeks with lipstick...]
You don't need me to call you that! [Shanks has to be fully aware that he's handsome -- and that most everyone around him thinks so. Why would he care what Buggy thinks?
There's a roll of his eyes as he gives a little harder of a tug to Shanks' hair.]
You're pretty too, I suppose, but I'm not wasting my lipstick on you. I don't buy the cheap stuff, you know. [He'd use ink of some kind -- and that is totally fair game once Shanks falls asleep. He huffs out a sigh as he tips himself back, stretching out. He's careful to not dislodge Shanks though.]
Why not? [Surely Buggy doesn'tthink that Shanks is beneath fishing for compliments even in this small pond with all its complicated history and strange bits of algae floating on the top...]
Ow-- [He also doesn't need Buggy to be pulling on his hair so hard like that! Yeesh.]
Guess there's only one way to find out... 'fraid I'm not in the mood for that today, though. [Or most days. If he can even roll out of his hammock and stumble around vaguely sober, that's already a win. Throwing in prettying himself up to face the day is just cruel and impossible.]
You must know a lot about makeup. [Maybe more than the average seafaring lass that keeps all the men out at sea in line, even.] It's a shame. I think the world is missing out on seeing the real you.
Because you hear it from everybody! Why do you need to hear it from me too? [Does his crew not fall on their knees and adore him enough? Along with everybody else? Yeesh.]
[And please-- he's not wasting his good makeup on Shanks tonight. That means less boozing and more actually doing something and he's not inclined to that right now.
That comment has him pausing though, lips pursing briefly.]
And what's so great about the real me? [The real him had never garnered as much attention as Shanks, never gotten as much love or adoration.]
If you say my nose, I'm gonna be the one stabbing you in your sleep, by the way.
No I don't... How do you know what I hear from other people anyway? [Shanks doesn't have much by way of insecurities that he would need the validation. But the occasional nice word is surprising and pleasant to hear. He would much rather hear from people he knows and who know him, anyway, than people who only know of him by reputation.]
Buggy! [A hearty chuckle tumbles from his lips.] There is absolutely nothing wrong with your nose. Or your hair. Or your eyes. Or your face. Or your body. I think the real you is great. [He has to grope around a bit to find a bit of elbow or knee to touch, reassuringly. But when he does, he doesn't let his hand fall away.]
One day I hope you'll see you the way I see you. [And not just himself but the way Shanks sees everything. Maybe they wouldn't fight amongst themselves so much if they all pillaged a leaf out of the redhead's old, tattered book.]
We grew up together, dumbass! I saw allll your adoring fans, all the people who fell over themselves to get a bit of your attention. And you've only gotten more gorgeous with age, so stop trying to poke for more ego stroking! [Because obviously that's what this is! He just wants his ego patted by Buggy, and how stupid is that? It's not like Buggy has an unhealthy obsession with him or anything.]
What-- [He should be reaching for one of his knives to stab him for even daring to mention nose in his presence, but-- Buggy is a little taken aback. Maybe he's the one who would appreciate the stroking of his ego, honestly.]
What's that supposed to mean? How exactly do you see me? [Besides weak and pathetic, obviously.]
[Shanks can't help but laugh at that. Gorgeous? Really? A part of
him can't believe that Buggy called him that. And that's after losing an
arm, the scars on his face, the weariness in his bones - Buggy must be the
only person left in the world who finds him attractive.] Alright,
alright. Don't be angry...
[For a clown he can be very fickle, and mercurial. It can't be good
for his stress levels.]
You're my friend, Buggy. You're strong, dependable. Determined. You know
when to put up a fight and when to call it quits. You have a sensitive
side, and you think it makes you less than all these other pirates. It
doesn't. It's your strength. You're a survivor. You should love yourself
more, Buggy. I shouldn't love you more than you love you.
[What do scars have to do with it?! Not like it hides his face, and well-- okay, the arm Buggy might be selfishly angry about. How could he lose a whole arm while Buggy's back was turned? Asshole.]
I'm not angry! [He's just... annoyed!
And now flustered because he has no idea what to say about genuine praise. Half of him is waiting for the punchline. Is Shanks about to make fun of him?
It doesn't seem like it.]
'Tch. I love myself just fine! I'm the amazing genius jester after all! [Except, you know, when he doesn't. But whatever. He nudges at Shanks, starting to move.]
[Unless the punchline is about Buggy not believing in himself, it
doesn't come. Shanks doesn't think himself too soft or too kind or too weak
to be a pirate. He does think that there's a lot of idiots in the ocean and
they could all stand to be less reckless and violent. Enjoy the journey and
the company they keep more. Far too many powerful people think that the
ends justify the means. He learnt a lot from their younger days, but that
wasn't one of the lessons he picked up.]
Are you comfortable? [Shanks is quietly lamenting not being able to
use Buggy as a pillow but he'll gladly settle for them both being
comfortable. Especially since he's still lying close enough to breathe that
familiar scent of face paint and hair product in.] Has anyone ever
told you your makeup smells nice?
[Probably not. He can't imagine that many people being able to get
this close to Buggy before he freaks out or gets prickly or starts going
off on his snapping turtle routine.]
Tell me honestly Buggy. Do you think the world would be a better place if I
was a cruel, harsh, unforgiving man with a ruthless crew and a formidable,
dangerous armada?
[Well, it's not like Buggy isn't scooting in enough to put them close, or if he falls asleep like this? He won't unconsciously drift towards the warm idiot next to him. Maybe.
He looks up towards the ceiling for a moment, maybe a little placated by Shanks' earlier words.] What? No...
[There's a laugh at the suggestion before he just shakes his head.
The next question dampens some of the amusement though and Buggy finds himself rolling over to his side to face Shanks, one hand groping out for that stupid stub of an arm.]
The world is shit either way. I think you'd be in better shape if you were. [He lets go of what's left of his arm to trace a finger over those scars running his eye.]
At least when we were together, you had someone making sure you weren't losing things left and right.
[It's been long enough that Shanks doesn't flinch when Buggy goes feeling up his scar tissue. It didn't heal up as cleanly as it could have but what's left of his arm usually stays tucked away in an empty sleeve and doesn't bother him too much.]
My crew keeps an eye out. [It might not seem like it but they trust him to let him make these decisions, even if they look stupid and pointless to everyone else. Shanks closes his eyes and lets Buggy-- okay don't poke his eye out now.
Oops is Shanks trying to snuggle in a little closer? That's completely accidental.] But if you're offering to protect me, I'm not going to say no.
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Who am I to tell the emperor how to spend his time, hm?
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I'm not making you stay if you don't want to. But I would like your company, if you would like mine too. There's no titles here - just me and you. [Old friends or... whatever it is they are.]
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[And if Shanks wants to see him nicer and happier, he'll need to let him toss a few more drinks back. Not his fault if Shanks makes him a tad grumpy after all.]
So, Red Hair, beyond your altruism, how else have you been entertaining yourself?
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Look at this! I don't think I'm cut out for all this hard work... You know I nearly lost my hand to this rusty nail. It's going to be so hard to sail with no hands. [Because that's clearly the main concern when you almost Jesused yourself.]
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Are you an idiot? What were you thinking! [Honestly. Idiot red head.] Stop trying to lose things behind my back!
[Yes, clearly, Shanks lost his left hand to spite him. Don't try to tell him otherwise!
His thumb rubs over the palm of his hand, soothing gently.]
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Why does everyone think that he lost his arm just to spite them...]
Sorry... [Don't mind him while he grins sheepishly and takes the opportunity to move in closer until he can rest the side of his head against Buggy's shoulder. He doesn't smell nearly as drunk as he's acting, but. Semantics. He's always some state of disheveled and moves like a heat-seeking missile.]
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What are you doing? [Besides using him as a pillow, that is.] If you invited me up to be your pillow, you could at least make sure I'm comfortable first...
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Here, finish it. [He drags the bottle of booze over, nudging it in front of Buggy. Let it not be said that he plies unsuspecting friends with alcohol... but hopefully finishing the whole thing will temper Buggy's irritable mood and get him to relax a bit. Enjoy this moment with Shanks.]
They'll let us spend the night here, so. Don't worry about getting drunk. [Because it's safe to assume Buggy has no life and no plans for the rest of the week, right?]
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If you insist. [Alcohol does usually brighten his mood a little.]
Are you trying to get me drunk, Red Hair? [HE huffs out a laugh.] Maybe I should have been a little more suspicious of your motives!
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I'm trying to get you to relax. It's different! [Shanks cracks a grin and invites himself to lie down, rest his head in Buggy's lap even though he could be using any number of pillows instead.]
Were you having fun down there? [Shanks might reconsider, if Buggy would rather be back downstairs. He didn't seem to mind drinking alone up here without him. But he does seem to want the company, even though Buggy won't let him say it without threatening violence or getting himself into hard and tight twists.]
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He huffs quietly, watching as Shanks gets comfortable. He brought this on himself -- Buggy is totally reaching down to start detangling that mop of red hair.]</small>
It was fine. <small>[But no regrets about coming up either.]</small> Can't you get one of your crew to brush your hair? It could actually be pretty if you kept up with it.
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The suggestion makes Shanks chuckle although he does try his best to hold still now that Buggy is attempting the impossible.]
I suppose I could. [That's not really what a crew is for, though. He has always done his best to manage on his own. He doesn't care much if anyone perceives him as weak or 'less than', somehow, for it, but he would hate to let on how difficult some of the little everyday things in life is with one hand. Besides, he's made his choice, he now has to live with it, right?]
No amount of attention could make my hair as pretty as yours though, Buggy. [Between that and the face makeup, he really does spend a lot of time keeping up appearances - literally and figuratively.] Besides, I don't think it matters. With these scars... [If he's supposed to be some big, scary, formidable emperor, live up to some reputation everyone else thinks he should have, the last thing anyone will notice is whether he conditions his hair.]
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And if a crew isn't to help you in the areas you lack, what is a crew for anyway? Even if it means having to ask for a stupid hand to straighten your hair... Not that he points that out.
The remark on his hair has his lips twitching up though. He's always been rather easy when it comes to compliments...]
Most would probably insist yours is prettier, dumbass. [But Buggy does put a lot of care into his hair, into his appearance in general.]
Hmm... [He reaches to brush his fingers over the scars that trail over his face, thoughtfully.]
Even the scars don't take away from how you look. Absolutely unfair. [How does Shanks manage to be attractive, even though it looks like he came close to losing a whole eye?]
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'Unfair'? [That gets a good snicker out of Shanks.] Are you calling me handsome? [What a rare... backwardsy compliment coming from Buggy! He'll take it, even if Buggy had meant to insult him. It's hard to get anything nice out of these seafarers.]
I mean, I'd take 'pretty' too, of course... unless you're going to start using some of that lipstick on me. [He's not entirely certain that Buggy's grown out of drawing dicks on his cheeks with lipstick...]
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There's a roll of his eyes as he gives a little harder of a tug to Shanks' hair.]
You're pretty too, I suppose, but I'm not wasting my lipstick on you. I don't buy the cheap stuff, you know. [He'd use ink of some kind -- and that is totally fair game once Shanks falls asleep. He huffs out a sigh as he tips himself back, stretching out. He's careful to not dislodge Shanks though.]
I bet you'd look silly in makeup.
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Ow-- [He also doesn't need Buggy to be pulling on his hair so hard like that! Yeesh.]
Guess there's only one way to find out... 'fraid I'm not in the mood for that today, though. [Or most days. If he can even roll out of his hammock and stumble around vaguely sober, that's already a win. Throwing in prettying himself up to face the day is just cruel and impossible.]
You must know a lot about makeup. [Maybe more than the average seafaring lass that keeps all the men out at sea in line, even.] It's a shame. I think the world is missing out on seeing the real you.
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[And please-- he's not wasting his good makeup on Shanks tonight. That means less boozing and more actually doing something and he's not inclined to that right now.
That comment has him pausing though, lips pursing briefly.]
And what's so great about the real me? [The real him had never garnered as much attention as Shanks, never gotten as much love or adoration.]
If you say my nose, I'm gonna be the one stabbing you in your sleep, by the way.
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Buggy! [A hearty chuckle tumbles from his lips.] There is absolutely nothing wrong with your nose. Or your hair. Or your eyes. Or your face. Or your body. I think the real you is great. [He has to grope around a bit to find a bit of elbow or knee to touch, reassuringly. But when he does, he doesn't let his hand fall away.]
One day I hope you'll see you the way I see you. [And not just himself but the way Shanks sees everything. Maybe they wouldn't fight amongst themselves so much if they all pillaged a leaf out of the redhead's old, tattered book.]
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It's not like Buggy has an unhealthy obsession with him or anything.]What-- [He should be reaching for one of his knives to stab him for even daring to mention nose in his presence, but-- Buggy is a little taken aback. Maybe he's the one who would appreciate the stroking of his ego, honestly.]
What's that supposed to mean? How exactly do you see me? [Besides weak and pathetic, obviously.]
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[Shanks can't help but laugh at that. Gorgeous? Really? A part of him can't believe that Buggy called him that. And that's after losing an arm, the scars on his face, the weariness in his bones - Buggy must be the only person left in the world who finds him attractive.] Alright, alright. Don't be angry...
[For a clown he can be very fickle, and mercurial. It can't be good for his stress levels.]
You're my friend, Buggy. You're strong, dependable. Determined. You know when to put up a fight and when to call it quits. You have a sensitive side, and you think it makes you less than all these other pirates. It doesn't. It's your strength. You're a survivor. You should love yourself more, Buggy. I shouldn't love you more than you love you.
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I'm not angry! [He's just... annoyed!
And now flustered because he has no idea what to say about genuine praise. Half of him is waiting for the punchline. Is Shanks about to make fun of him?
It doesn't seem like it.]
'Tch. I love myself just fine! I'm the amazing genius jester after all! [Except, you know, when he doesn't. But whatever. He nudges at Shanks, starting to move.]
Scoot over. I want to stretch out too. [A pause.]
You're too soft or a pirate, you know.
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[Unless the punchline is about Buggy not believing in himself, it doesn't come. Shanks doesn't think himself too soft or too kind or too weak to be a pirate. He does think that there's a lot of idiots in the ocean and they could all stand to be less reckless and violent. Enjoy the journey and the company they keep more. Far too many powerful people think that the ends justify the means. He learnt a lot from their younger days, but that wasn't one of the lessons he picked up.]
Are you comfortable? [Shanks is quietly lamenting not being able to use Buggy as a pillow but he'll gladly settle for them both being comfortable. Especially since he's still lying close enough to breathe that familiar scent of face paint and hair product in.] Has anyone ever told you your makeup smells nice?
[Probably not. He can't imagine that many people being able to get this close to Buggy before he freaks out or gets prickly or starts going off on his snapping turtle routine.]
Tell me honestly Buggy. Do you think the world would be a better place if I was a cruel, harsh, unforgiving man with a ruthless crew and a formidable, dangerous armada?
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He looks up towards the ceiling for a moment, maybe a little placated by Shanks' earlier words.] What? No...
[There's a laugh at the suggestion before he just shakes his head.
The next question dampens some of the amusement though and Buggy finds himself rolling over to his side to face Shanks, one hand groping out for that stupid stub of an arm.]
The world is shit either way. I think you'd be in better shape if you were. [He lets go of what's left of his arm to trace a finger over those scars running his eye.]
At least when we were together, you had someone making sure you weren't losing things left and right.
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My crew keeps an eye out. [It might not seem like it but they trust him to let him make these decisions, even if they look stupid and pointless to everyone else. Shanks closes his eyes and lets Buggy-- okay don't poke his eye out now.
Oops is Shanks trying to snuggle in a little closer? That's completely accidental.] But if you're offering to protect me, I'm not going to say no.
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