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"Go for it," Kas agrees.

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Isabella blankets them, does up the last knots on her silks, and slips out.

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Angela is notebooking in the other bedroom, wing flung over Micaiah. "Hi," she says when Amariah comes out. "...Have fun?"

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"Heaps," agrees Amariah, stretching. "You getting lots of good processing done? I'm all for notebooks but I really don't know how you other bells manage without daemons."

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"I'm managing. I don't know about the others. Is that what we're calling the class? Bells?"

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"It's the only part of the name that always crop up. You and I aren't Swans, Shell Bell isn't an Isabella or even a Bella. Actually, I think this is why Alice's middle name is given as Whistle. Bells and whistles...? Do you not have that expression in Samaria? Well, anyway, I'm going to start calling Kas/Micaiah/Alice/Joker types Whistles as a group. I'm going to make a note of that in the guestbook."

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"I've never heard the expression," says Angela.

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"I have," says Micaiah, poking his head out from under Angela's wing. "I think it's cute."

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"Okay. You're a Whistle," she says, kissing his temple, "and I'm a Bell."

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He giggles.

"I love you," he says, and snuggles down under her wing again.
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"I'd get up, but Micaiah's not wearing anything," says Angela. "If you could close the door real quick...?"

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"Yeah, sure, whatever you need to do," says Amariah, shutting their door. She writes a note about "Whistles" in the guestbook.

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"If you could just put something on? Amariah doesn't care, but anyone might come in - well, any of me and their friends."

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"I don't care either," he points out. "But sure."

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"Others of me might. Or their friends. It's not all Whistles and Sherlocks - Stella's notes about Golden have her husband down as Edward and she refers to him as being 'uptight', for instance."

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"Okay." He gives her a kiss and retrieves his clothes from the floor.

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Once he's reasonably decent Angela exits the room and sits with Amariah and they swap life stories some more.

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Some time later—a long time later—Sherlock emerges from the bedroom where Amariah last saw him. He looks very pleased with himself, in an understated sort of way.

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"Well, you look happy," says Amariah in the middle of a point-by-point comparison between Ranata Ekamma and the angel Rinnah.

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"I am sure you can guess why," he says cheerfully.

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"Am I gonna have to carry them home?" she laughs.

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"I wouldn't rule it out."

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"We're just about caught up here. If Angela'll spot me the credit for a hammock and the tea tree oil and whatnot so I can come home with you and help out Juliet, I'll help you carry them downstairs, dump them out in the living room through my door, and then visit your place and work some magic."

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"I'm happy to help with the purchases," says Angela.

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"Do let's, then," says Sherlock.

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