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A. Phone: [At 727 Anderson Lane there is no screams of shock, or yelling to go home. Just a quiet click as New Zealand picks up the telephone, and calmly dials a number]

Oz? You there? Right, I know you did this, you're the only one who would. So tell me where the hell Shaun is. And where I am, because this isn't my house. Woke up in bed with some shelia apparently, and you know that I'm a [STATIC] and that I don't really go for that type.

B. Action: [Sometime in the afternoon you'll find a little blonde kid wandering around in badly made pants under a ripped and muddy dress. It use to be so pretty once, with frills, and such a lovely cream colour.... and well... now it looks like it was shoved into a blender. Or chopped up by a 6 year old. Which it was. As the kid wanders she stares up at everything with wide eyes, a few toy blocks clenched in her hands. Who knew that simply trying to have a late lunch would do this?]

Mummmm... Mummmm... England! [This place is strange as fuck, she would also say, if she wasn't so concerned about getting a spanking for a foul mouth.]

(ooc: If you chose B. replies will be coming from [livejournal.com profile] kiwicolony )
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notmiddleearth

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