[Fortescue continues to chuckle. She has to stop, though, because her ribs inform her that they've had enough for a moment or two. Instead, she nods. Donna, you don't have to work very hard to sell her on booze.]
Don't worry, love, I'm sold. We could ask Rat. He's marvelous with his guitar. [She pauses, draining the rest of her tea.] ...he's still around, isn't he?
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Don't worry, love, I'm sold. We could ask Rat. He's marvelous with his guitar. [She pauses, draining the rest of her tea.] ...he's still around, isn't he?
[And there's the tentative tone again.]