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December 2nd, 2010

[He had exactly fourteen hours to get ready the moment he got off the plane and set foot on London pavement, from Jerusalem to Dublin as if home was just a stopover.

Of the fourteen hours, two were spent on travelling time, one was spent unpacking, packing and a shower inbetween. Nine was spent at one of his workshops; it was never a good idea to procure anything whilst sleep-deprived but David - David knew exactly what he was doing. The remaining two hours was spent playing catch-up with emails, voice messages, phone calls; almost everything was tied over for another thirty hours before he was on his way to Ireland.

A runner - one of those faces in the Market that was incredibly efficient; never seen, never heard, never noticed - delivered the liquid panacea to the doorstep of Haven; a package addressed to Ophelia Ziegler c/o Gryffiths and/or Andley. Something to suppress the voice, as David had promised. 10mL per 24 hours; do not overdose.

He didn't have time to finish what he was going to write, so all he did was hastily pen down a name. The message would have to be filled in later.]



Ace of Cups