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Morning.
Frank pushes out of the kitchen, a tray carried carefully in his hands. Coffee, juice, eggs, bacon, toast, fresh fruit....
He pads across the main room, Balefire flickering a greeting as he crosses in his stocking feet and pj pants.
He climbs the stairs carefully.
He holds the tray against his hip with one hand, opens the door at the top of the stairs, and slips inside.
The door snicks shut.
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