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No definite plans just yet.
A pitiful whim, although that may be too flattering of a description for it.
An itch that's been scratched. It is a fruitless, senseless endeavor. Nothing more.
An itch that's been scratched. It is a fruitless, senseless endeavor. Nothing more.

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[ The smallest smile that makes you just wanna smack his face in with a crowbar. ]
And are there plans at all, Claude?
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[ Sneer. ]