“I’m here to help.”

[Text:] The only recorded thing older than both of these is your mother. Where's the $20 you owe me?

[text] how much sleep do you need?

Pulling up to the location Pandora sent he found a cottage with brick garden wall and a sturdy iron gate. He parked on the side of the road and took his covered wicker basket with him. Dressed in causal but comfortable brown trousers and a thin white hemp shirt he stood before the gate. Surprisingly he sensed no wards about, but still he would wait there, for there were dogs that now barked to alert of his presence. One of them came to the gate, smelling the air, a hound. But how odd it looked, old and not so well, faded? Undead was it? Ah of course, a necromancer's companions. He knelt down to see if he was friendly for pets.

“Hello, by the way.”

"Most things are easy once you set your mind to do them. What do you mean, exactly?"

[Text: Vincent} Vincent, mon cher! What a joy to hear from you after all this time. The curse… well, that tale is best told in person. I would be delighted to see you again. Just tell me where you’re hiding these nights, and I’ll come find you. There’s so much to share, and eternity always feels a little brighter in old company.

"Bastard." Pausing, then adding, "If we are talking about gestures... Talking it through. Not storming off. Coming back. Accepting and embracing. I don't know... Honestly, I'm not great at it."