Chicago, in the near past.
You don't see people using payphones much nowadays, but they are still around if you look for them.
The drunk sleeping it off in one of the little phone cubicles wakes up and blinks groggily as Epimetheus steps into the next cubicle, picks up the receiver without putting any money in the slot, and says, "Meda."
The phone purrs in his ear. He leans back against the Plexiglass wall and give the drunk a cheery finger-waggle.
The drunk sleeping it off in one of the little phone cubicles wakes up and blinks groggily as Epimetheus steps into the next cubicle, picks up the receiver without putting any money in the slot, and says, "Meda."
The phone purrs in his ear. He leans back against the Plexiglass wall and give the drunk a cheery finger-waggle.

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Then he shakes his head, adding hastily, "Not that I blame you! I mean, I'm as guilty of that as anyone."
Possibly more than many.
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"Yeah. But you know, it was really only two or less, given I was a little...crazy, and you went AWOL..."
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Awkward moment of phone silence.
"Hey -- did it help any? What I told you then?"
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The drunk gives him a Look, which Epimetheus waves off. He helped someone. This is worth a victory dance.
"Good! That's good to hear." He leans back, grinning. "So're you gonna come to the States to visit me one of these days, or am I gonna have to drag my sorry ass out to Morocco?"
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Beat. Beam.
"You have to come here!"
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He is Hurt.
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"Or my mother's." It's entirely possible that baby sharks are told in no uncertain terms that Ceto is going to gobble them up.
"The trouble is, getting them to listen..."
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He sounds fond.
Of course.
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She likes sharks. When they aren't trying to eat her.
"There is always Milliways if you are desperate to show me the grand old US of A."
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:D?
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"Thank you. You are the best cousin ever."
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Humility, thy name is . . . not Epimetheus, that's for damn sure.
"How're Stheno and Eurayle?"
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Distantly, there is a yelled 'I heard that'
"- and of course utterly delightful. Making a new chest and it's beautiful."
Making their own furniture is only...practical, really.
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Epimetheus approves of making things, even if he doesn't do it himself anymore.
"Tell them I say hi, yeah?"
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Beat.
"Well, don't I usually?"
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"I'm sure you are."
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He hangs up, tips the drunk a cheery salute, and heads off into the streets of Chicago.