Leftover Soup!
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Tailsteak

It would appear that Trent is more uncomfortable with eleven than he was with zero.

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Readers, if you have a moment, I have a fairly important announcement about the future of Leftover Soup.

Also, if you're at all interested, you've got until March 1st to submit to 2015's Sexy Self Comics Day.

0670-------------------------------------
(Wednesday evening, INT: MH's living room.)

MH (still clinging to TH): Fuck, fuck, Trent, I love you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
TH: Okay, Max, I know I wanted you to take this more seriously, but this right here is not better.
GU: I... I should probably go. My thing isn't important. I'm sorry.
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TH (pushing MH away): No, Gina, it's okay. I... I shouldn't have used the R-word. It's like "Nazi", it's the tactical nuke of the English language, and it implies things that really don't one hundred percent apply to my situation.
TH: Seriously, I'm okay. Max, let go of me.
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MH: I love you.
TH: I know. We can talk about it later. Let's talk about Gina now. Gina, what's your situation? You're feeling alone?
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GU: I guess. I don't want to, y'know, take up Max's attention...
TH: Yeah, word to the wise: if she asks if you want eye contact, say "no".




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