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"Huh." He shakes his head. "Okay, I give up. I don't think I can explain it without actually taking you to a strip club."

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"I don't think I can justify hanging around in Québec that long," she says. "Interesting research project on a subject unrelated to my studies though it might be."

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"Well, try one sometime," he says. "See if you figure it out. Actually, got a pen and paper?"

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Isabella reaches into her bag, produces a small notebook, and tears out a page. Pathalan picks up a pen from a pocket of the bag in his beak and Isabella passes that over too.

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Kas writes down an address. It's in Montreal.

"I worked there for a while," he says. "It's pretty good. They thought I was nineteen, though, so shhh."
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"I don't appear in Canada routinely. I doubt I'll be in Montreal anytime in the next few years at least," Isabella says. "The most likely way for me to wind up there would be going on a trip with my mother."

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"Guess you'll just have to wait to find out what the fuss is all about, then," he says.

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"I think I'll live. I can file it under Human Peculiarities."

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"Awwwww," he says, with exaggerated disappointment.

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"I have a lot of magic to learn before I can expect to get anywhere without a teacher," Isabella chuckles. "It's my main priority for the next few years. I try not to spend too long on side trips."

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"Where are you, in Maine?" he asks. "Maybe I'll come visit. Take you somewhere nice."

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"Rockland. How are you going to take me somewhere if you're broke?"

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"I'm not always broke," he says. "I just am now."

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"Going to do more dancing-with-a-bowl-of-cereal?" she teases.

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"Definitely better than hooking, in this weather. But nah, I think I'll go see my friend first. She might have something for me."

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"Nice friend," comments Isabella.

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"She is, I love her so much," he says happily.

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Their second dishes arrive at long last and Isabella starts in on her chicken. Path puts the piece of paper with the address on it in her bag, and peers at Petaal quizzically.

"I know you're not a witch's daemon, but don't you ever come away from him?" he asks the fox.
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"Noooo," says Petaal, tucking his face against the side of Kas's neck.

"We're really close," says Kas. "Closer than most people, I guess."
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"It's probably just as well you aren't a witch, then," Isabella remarks. "Although come to think of it I think some humans separate, too, just not all."

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"My dad wouldn't fuck a witch if she held a gun to his head," Kas remarks idly. "And I have a dick, I hear that's disqualifying."

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"It is," Isabella says mildly. "Why doesn't he like witches?"

She's not insulted. You can't really insult a witch.
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"He was just an asshole," shrugs Kas. Petaal snuggles his neck some more. "I'm sure he'd shit himself if he knew I was hanging out with you."

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"Well, don't tell him, then, that sounds messy."

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"It's okay," Kas says cheerfully, "he's dead."

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