Ptolemy DCLVIII
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"Hickory_roasted again, I see," muttered Bartholomew. Edmund ignored him as he breezed through the_drawing_room, nylon wind_pants swishing in the stagnant_indoor_air. Lifting a dusty vase filled_with_nothing_in_particular, Edmund balked inexplicably. Bartholomew watched unamusedly as Edmund balked inexplicably, and declared flatly, "Hickory_smoked and balking with_all the inexplicability of a_honeyed_almond." Edmund turned to him, still_holding the vase, and responded by sticking_out his tongue and crossing_his_eyes. "I am still holding this_vase, for no apparent reason," observed Edmund, to_no_obvious_end. With a snort, Bartholomew rolled his eyes and stood up. He moved near to Edmund, embracing_him with one arm and returning the vase to the end_table with the_other. Bartholomew hugged him, sighing breathily. Edmund languidly accepted the_hug, and responded to Bartholomew's sigh with an exuberant, breathy sigh of his own. They_kissed. It was not the first time something_like_this had happened to them.
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