==== February 22nd, 2014
==== Chel, Veresch, Majel, Sacitca, E'bert
==== Much chatter, and Chel's hair, is had between the women, while E'bert avoids smelling like one. This time.

Who Chel, Veresch, Majel, Sacitca, E'bert
What Much chatter, and Chel's hair, is had between the women, while E'bert avoids smelling like one. This time.
When It is evening of the sixteenth day of the second month of the first turn of the 12th pass.
Where Public Baths, Igen Weyr

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Public Baths
Stout walls have been erected around several naturally formed pools, serving to provide a semblance of privacy and protection from the harsh wind and sand. Above the pools, well cleaned walkways criss-cross beneath tiled arches and descend with a stairway or two leading down to each pool to provide one means of slip-free access through the area. Surrounding the pools there are benches, receptacles to put used clothing and towels in, and areas to get sweetsand and towels from - if you didn't bring your own.


Though Chel's hair is wet, it's not because she's currently in a pool. Rather, the dark-skinned girl's cross-legged on a bench near one, shoulders heavily bent to allow her to grapple with the unbecoming hair tangle she's thrown over her head. The wet hair hangs heavily, and if she's been there long she's probably developed quite the crick. Her business is with the more free flowing sections at the base of her neck, shorter and not rolled like the knotted ropes the rest of her hair's starting to become from this strange treatment. After a minute or so, her sudden, "Cracked shell!" echoes across the pool and a pointedly not-staring woman quietly excuses herself. Not really noticing, Chel gets both her hands beneath her hair and tosses it over her shoulder so she can sit up, straining her chin towards the baths' ceiling with a sigh.

It's been a long day, a good one, and all Veresch expected was a quiet soak and some time to giggle at herself. Instead, as she wanders in, the opportunity presents to giggle at Chel instead, and that's what she does. "Hold still," she chortles as she sinks down in a crouch behind The Hair. "What have you been doing to yourself?" Putting down her things, she reaches up to the soon-to-be-tangled mess. Surprisingly enough, perhaps, her fingers are very delicate and patient, slowly unteasing and unsnarling. "You have wonderful hair, you know? But it looks like it could also swallow brushes. What have you been doing to it, wrapping it into a 'tail with the scarf again?"

"Mmmm," a bit of a purr escapes Chel as Veresch's hands find her hair, though she's jolted out of it here and there merely by the nature of her hair, and by no fault of the other girl. Grabbing up one of the knotted lengths, she waggles it at Veresch like a living thing, "Yeah? Y'want some?" Turning more contemplative, she rolls the bit between her fingers, then slides it into her palm. Holding it between both palms, sandwiched, she raises that up to try and show. "It got knotted so much on its own, I just sort of… knotted it myself, like this, to see if it would hold and cut it out." She rolls the tight tangle back and forth. "But it's not keeping." Sighing, she begins to roll her knock, forgetting Veresch's presence and purpose, "Really just made it worse, I think."

Liberally covered in a cheerful, cobalt dye, Majel's expression is anything but as she single-mindedly makes a beeline for the pool closest to the doorway. It might register in her peripheral vision that a mass of hair resembling Chel is somewhere nearby, and Veresch, too, but she doesn't stop; no one's getting between her and a bath. Leaving a smudged handprint behind as she snags a towel and a good bit of soapsand, mostly-blue clothing is rapidly shed before she submerges herself silently in the water. It's likely that she's had better days.

Perhaps Chel spots the horrified look on Veresch's face as the procedure is explained to her. Perhaps not. The end result is that she reaches across to slap Chel's hands away from her hair with a light tap. "You do not deserve to touch this hair, you… you… shortcut person! Keep your hands down there." Reaching sideways, she liberates a wooden comb from her pile of stuff and starts to comb out the dreadlocked mess. "So," she shares. "I kissed a boy today. Rei. His head didn't fall off." It was a monumental, secretive occurrence, so naturally she shares it with a gal-pal. "And then we went for tea… hoip. Is that Majel?" She stares across Chel's shoulder. "Looks like the day kicked her backside. I only ever beeline like that when it's bathing or punching."

"Hey!" Chel's slapped hand retreats in front of her, shaking out less for the hunt as the impertinence. "Y'know this is my hair, right?" The comb gets almost immediately caught in something, jerking her head back. "It's just gonna tangle again when I don't do that anymore…" is nearly sing-song, interrupted by her trying to turn completely around to face Veresch. "Are we disappointed or glad that his head didn't fall off?" Hoip! Chel's absolutely hideous at this staying still for brushing thing. Adjusting her knees, where she sits still (but not still) on that bench in front of Veresch, she twists to find the very blue Majel. "Yeah, looks like… Hey!" It's friendly enough. If you like being barked at from across the baths.

Enter in another woman not long after Majel beelines on in. Unlike Majel, however, Sacitca is of the mind to take her own time - and is glad she does when she spots Veresch and Chel. A smile crosses her face, and she approaches the pool the two inhabit(? are sitting near?). "Hello cousin Chel and Veresch." She greets easily. "It is nice to see you both." Instead of immediately stripping down when she reaches a bench, she sets a basket upon her lap, and starts sorting through it. It would appear the basket has bags of soapsands in it. "How do the two of you do?" A bag is considered, and put back inside the basket. Not that one.

Veresch winces as the comb gets caught so quickly, but isn't slow to rap Chel on the head with a knuckle. "Stop twitching, twitcher." It's not a hard blow, however. As her portable hair machine barks across the bath, she winces again, and turns her smile on Sacitca instead, wide and happy. "Hey there!" she calls. "Come sit here with us, Sacci, she doesn't want to sit still." Majel's blue state isn't commented on, not yet. Girl deserves a break, yo. At least for five minutes!

It takes quite some time for Majel to emerge, scrubbing vigorously in an attempt to restore her skintone to something more appropriate, like freshly inflamed pink post-exfoliation. Eventually, she does pull herself up to the edge of the pool, quick to get out and wrap herself in her large, mildly-stained towel. There's a belated hello spared for Chel and Veresch, but it's to Sacitca that her wet feet patter. "Saci, " she greets evenly. "Do you have a miracle in that basket of yours? Something to get the rest of this, " a hand points at the few blue streaks left in bits of wet hair, "out?"

As per Veresch's wish, Chel stops twitching, but it's not to the girl's rapping but the appearance of Sacitca. Her cousin's shot a grin enough, but one of Chel's feet slyly slips out from the cross-legged position, looping under the bench and shoving something there even further underneath some clothes. It clinks gently, but is otherwise innocuous, and in the new, louder bathing atmosphere, could be entirely lost. "Maybe because you're combing my hair out against my will," she does manage to snipe up at Veresch after a bit. But as she's settled down, she stays that way, just pulling her leg back up with both hands to squint at her toes and the toenails, pick at some dried skin. If anyone were to come over, they'd be treated to the same smoke, sweat, and booze smell as Veresch must be enjoying. Hardly basket-worthy.

"Gladly," Sacitca answers Veresch, turning to Chel teasingly, "I could use a test subject, cousin…" The offer dangles like a carrot, like it surely has many times over the years whenever Sacitca develops a new scent. Or maybe it's a threat to help keep Chel from wiggling! "She's doing you a favor, cousin, just think of all the braids we could put in your hair." Majel's approach is responded to with a coy little smile. "I don't know if it'll help with the dye, Majel, but it'll surely help with the smell of the dye.. I only brought scented soaps today." A bag is offered towards the fellow merchant, palm up. "Here, maybe we can scrub it out good." Or maybe Majel'll be stuck smelling unusual AND with blue streaks in her hair!

Of course he would walk into the baths when it's full of girls. Of course he would. Only E'bert's timing seems to be this dismal. With a sigh, he finds a somewhat private area to strip down. Lucky for him, E'bert did remember to bring extra towels. Once in a bathing pool, the towel wrapped round his waist is slapped onto the floor beside the pool. It will be a quick scrub, and an even quicker escape if he can get past the girls a second time.

Veresch has not twitched her nose a whit in all the time she's been standing there combing, thankyouverymuch. Then again, put hair into the girl's hands and she's normally off in her own little world. There's no response from her for a few minutes, she's too busy doing something she loves to do, but when she finally surfaces one lock has been detangled. "What happened, Majel? Can't have been clumsiness, you're too graceful for that." Then, because she has to, she leans to poke through Sacitca's Magic Basket with her comb, sighing over all the little bottles and things. "Is there something that doesn't smell too sweet?" she questions. "I have…" Oh. Her boy-dar just went off. Her head lifts, and she stares at E'bert for a second. then, with a shrug, she returns to her mission: Chel's hair. "This'll probably work a bit better if we put some oil onto it. It's no good if it becomes too brittle."

Majel takes the bag with an optimistic shrug as she peers inside of it. "I'm willing to try anything, " she avows, giving Veresch a wry smile. "In choosing a moment to be clumsy, my timing was poor." Her tone is rather deadpan - perhaps she's attempting a joke? Her nose wrinkles, but she otherwise manages to hide her distaste for the smoke-sweat-booze scents emanating from Chel's direction. And as for E'bert passing through, well. Her grip tightens on the still-dripping towel clutched about her, but her attention remains wholly focused on digging through Sacitca's bag. "Which one of these is the least cloying?"

Shooting Sacitca a dirty teenager warning look for her proposal as Chel as test subject, the more smelly cousin murmurs, "I like braids…" half sullenly and half contemplatively. A stray strand is grabbed and pulled to its extent, because she can, Veresch. Because she can. E'bert is clocked, as any entering patron might be passing by the group; he might feel her piercing stare for longer seconds than is socially acceptable. Then Veresch spells out those magic words and her shoulders straighten, sitting her up, "Oil… oil! Veresch, you lovely little genius. I think that if I used sticky oil or soapsand residue, then they'd stay ratted up." She demonstrates with an excited rub of her palms together and uncurls to jut a hand towards Sacitca's basket of smelling. Hey, family discount, right?

E'bert is not unnoticed by Sacitca, but she doesn't immediately comment on him. "Unfortunately no.." She tells Majel with mischief writ on her face. "These are all experimental scents — not sticky oil cousin, unless Veresch says so — but you may choose which one you like the best under the condition that you come and tell me how people react to it!" It's a promise, clearly, as Sacitca displays the many little bags in her basket. "Veresch, what are you trying to do with Chel's hair, anyway?" And then Sacitca's gaze falls on E'bert. Poor, poor E'bert. "We should give him something that'll make him smell lovely." Apparently they're all a "we" now. Sacitca also makes no attempts to lower her voice - which means E'bert will probably hear the plot to make him smell delightful.

See Veresch. See Veresch wanting to cry, because that was not what she meant, and now Chel is going to walk around looking like a hobo with dirty soapsand-residue dreads. Hobo! "I will give you the nicest set of braids ever if you stop that smushing thing. No, seriously, Chel. Sacci, something light that'll sink in, please, none of the sticky stuff!" Shards, it's like trying to wrestle away an octopus from his tentacles. "Will you be okay though, Majel? You looked like you had to scrub pretty hard. Want me to bring you a drink later on? And I'm trying to detangle it, Sacci, but she keeps wiggling like a landed flatfish. After it's detangled I'll braid. I promise it won't come out until I want them to." Pause. Wait. Conspiracy against E'bert? She's So In. "Something like night-flower essence," she suggests innocently.

E'bert blinks the water out of his eyes as he finishes his quick scrub. Towel is once more grabbed, and wrapped round his waist before he exits the pool. Sorry, no peeking, and is making his way back to where he'd stripped his dirtied clothing off. He says not a word as he listens to the plotting of the girls. He has a sister. He knows. He knows girls that say we are up to no good. Said no good is almost always not pleasant for him. Dressed again, the young rider makes his way for the exit.

"Experimental - ah, " and Majel finally plucks a soap from the bag at random, handing the sack back to its owner. "I'll give it a go. Even if it doesn't get everything out, at least I'll smell better than your average soapsand." There's a silver lining to this comedy of error, somewhere. "Thank you, Veresch, but I'm afraid I'll be the sort of blue that a proper drink doesn't cure." Alas, alas. A skeptical eyebrow lifts as the conspiracy to pelt poor E'bert with a variety of scents gets underway; that must be her cue to head back to the mostly blue pool and try to work the remainder of her blunder out of her hair. She is definitely not involved. Nope.

"Don't dump scents on a guy," protests Chel, though not very strongly and certainly without any power to it. She feels incrementally stronger about the forcing of things on her, though she resists from pulling back when Veresch's ministrations continue. Fingers release off of Sacitca's basket in disappointment, though her eyes linger in that direction with her chin slightly lifted so that she can spy into the selection of bags. Toes curl and release. "I don't know, Veresch, I think I'd rather hear more about this boy you shoved your mouth all over."

Sacitca easily hands over a non-sticky oil to Veresch, avoiding Chel's hands should her cousin resist as best she can. "Here, you untangle one side, and I'll do the other. Then she has less time to resist!" It's for Chel's own good, truly! Her basket is even sat down, and her comb plucked out to further this cause! E'bert's almost immediate evacuation earns a little frown from the perfumer. "Let me know how well it works for you, Majel." And how well the people around her like the scent, presumably! "Shame, I did have a couple new 'manly' scents.." She murmurs, and then shrugs delicately, eying Veresch at this new tidbit of news. "You kissed a boy?" No judgement in her voice - not yet, at least.

Veresch is too much a weyr-bred kid to blush, but there's a strand of embarrassment in there. She stolidly works on one half of Chel's dread-head, fingers as gentle as she can be. Each strand, once done, gets a light coating of oil. "I didn't shove my mouth all over him," she finally mutters. "I just pecked him on the cheek to say sorry, because I hurt his feelings, I think. But…" There her voice fades, Sacci gets a guilty look and her eyes shutter again. "It's Rei." Pause. "Reilan. He hangs around with pretty-flippy Thierry sometimes." It's likely only Chel that can pick up the tremor in her hands, but it's there. "He's Bazaar-bred," she tries to defend to Sacitca. "I wouldn't… you know. Totally run over him. He's nice."

"Mmmm…" An attempt to get back to the purr of before gets interrupted by Chel's inability to stifle her giggle — which is just basically her snorting. "Awww, a peck on the cheek, that ain't even nothing!" Arms get flung up and then slapped down on her legs, which she kicks out and brings back in. A furtive glance over at the basket and then her hand streaks past, gripping the first bag she can find to carry protectively into her lap. Fingers wrap around the first solid attempt, removing it for a tentative sniff. For one strange little second, she looks almost blissful… relaxed. Then it snaps out of place and she shoves the soapsand inside to smack her lips. Eyes have narrowed calculatingly but the mood doesn't reach her voice. "Reilan, Thierry. Maybe I've heard the names batted around. But what, by the Dawn Stars, is a pretty-flippy?"

"Ah, well, a peck on the cheek is another story entirely." Sacitca murmurs, a smile crossing her lips briefly. Chel's shoulder gets a little squeeze, as if in silent scolding for making her think Veresch was off being naughty! "I think I've encountered him a few times.. Reilan. Hm." The mention of Thierry has Sacitca frowning, even as she continues working to comb out Chel's hair. "Just be careful, Veresch. Sometimes the boys that seem the nicest…" In other words, Sacitca isn't about to trust a boy easily anytime soon! But that's simply because she's cautious. "Thierry is…" Sacitca's explanation falters here, except to dip down to a murmur of foul words that she probably learned in the Bazaar. The use of those words pretty well sums up her feelings regarding Thierry, at the moment. His first impression on her was not a good one. At least her hands keep at their work calmly, despite Chel's digging about in her basket. Chel knows the basket rules, so she's not too worried! "Do you like this… Reilan?"

"He looks pretty when he flips his hair," Veresch attempts to explain. "He likes to rake his hands through it, see? And it's long enough that it flips when he does it, and he looks pretty." Her mouth curls into a deeply satisfied smile. "He hates being called pretty, so I do it every chance I get. Besides." She swallows, hands stilling. "I saw him at the lake the other day," she shares quietly. "I would never tell him, but I'd barter every day for a chance to see him standing up out of the water again, especially with clothes that seethrough!" Sacitca gets a look, then a smile that's more tired than irritated; "I'll do so," she promises. "But… he's always been kind to me. I'll tell you two if something bad happens, okay?"

"He looks pretty when he flips his hair…" echoes Chel skeptically, though who is she to talk, what with her hair being woman-handled by two different people. "Hey… weren't you talking about ticking off some deadbeat when you first came into the Dustbowl?" With an expert sideways toss, she lands Sacitca's things back into the basket. "Veresch, you gotta even out a little, hun. Especially with a guy who makes Sacitca do that," a finger points up to where the swearing's coming from. Not that she isn't, secretly, biting her lip to herself at the notion of water glimmering off of a— hey now! Tell them two— "Oh, you'll tell me," announces Chel sweetly, "And then I'll put a dart through his eye so he respects how he uses the other one… and… meanwhile," her hand flaps uselessly, "You'll go cry on Sacitca's shoulder, cause y'know she's better at that."

"Hair flipping?" The litany of curses brought to an end, Sacitca instead eyes her fellow hair-fixer again. There's so much, so much Sacitca could say there, but she'll refrain from doing so. You know, to be nice. There might be a hint of a blush rising on this particular girl's cheeks at that thought, and she elbows Veresch lightly. "Perhaps next time he's at the lake, you run and find me. My little sister could use some stall experience.." You know, just so she can see what causes Veresch to go all daydreamy over. "And while I'm being a shoulder to cry on, I'll advise you of a thousand ways you could…shall we say…cause his existence to become miserable." Sacitca's smile is sheer sweetness…behind which hides diabolical plans, apparently. "There, that should do it on this side, although perhaps a touch more oil to make it smoother…" She fishes through her basket again as she talks, to find a certain vial.

Veresch pets Chel's hair lovingly, and reaches down impetuously to slide her arms around the other girl and squeeeze in thanks. Sacitca gets the same treatment, although a little more decorously. "You're both the best," she says appreciatively. "Seriously, I love you two, darts and all." Then, because there has to be sharing, "He looks like a younger Cha'el when he's all wet and glistening. You know…" Leaving aside the pampered locks, she makes a vague movement in front of her stomach. "And further down…" Okay that she blushes at, not because sex is taboo, but because she's describing a very yummy boy. "I wonder what Rei looks like when he's… ahem!" Pause for breath. "Who do you like, Chel?"

Pampered, ewww. Except it's getting increasingly more difficult for Chel to pretend that she isn't enjoying a part of this. Veresch's descriptions help, and she turns her head against her shoulder disobediently to catch the gestures. "Gee, Sacitca, she drops boy's names like it's her job." Maneuvering, she rears an elbow back to teasingly prod at Veresch's thus emphasized belly. Sliding her head to the side to stretch out the muscles — how long have they been sitting here! — she hefts her shoulders up in a languid shrug. "Seems like you've got the liking business covered. I'll just focus on the Dustbowl." Her legs spread out luxuriously in front of her, dark skin interrupted here and there with the white of slight scabbing. "Say, what do you two think about a night at the cantina that's exclusively," hands spread to either side, fingers wide: imagine it! "for women? Dress how they want, act how they want, entertainment done by women— even a woman bouncer. They're in the guards now, we can hire one on for a night." Premature, but unflagging confidence.

Sacitca helps in quiet consideration. "He sounds like…an interesting person." Sacitca finally says, elbowing Chel lightly in mild reprimand for her words. "Come now, cousin, surely there's someone you like." The perfumist teases lightly, rinsing her comb and her fingers free of the oil she's helped work through the other's hair. "It sounds like…a very nice gathering, honestly. Though…I could see more of the oldtimers showing up than we belonging to this time." If only because most women as so reserved and conservative." But then, Chel's probably already accounted for that! Sacitca falls silent, thinking over this idea of her cousin's with some curiosity.

Veresch grunts at the elbow in the stomach. "I do not!" she calls out, firmly sinking into a bigger morass of embarrassment now, and undoes the last matted tangle at speed. Ha! With all the oily bits oiled, she pushes at the bartender's shoulder. "Bath and thorough wash, and none of that residue stuff. I'd love a night like that though, if you make more of those fruity drinks?" She too needs a dip, which she keeps business-like and short. Pause. Dip. Scrub. Rinse. Dip. Rinse again. "I know a lot of caverns-folk that'd like it, so likely more Oldtimers, yes." Her smile turns muted as she gets out of the bath and towels off. "Someday, I hope it'll just be Igenites, you know? You two are friends, not just people from another time." Her chin lifts. "I have to go in any case. Let me know when the time is? And I'll come by tomorrow to give you the best braid job ever, Chel."

"Why does there have to be someone?" whines Chel over the indignity of her liking someone, but not with overdone protest. Truly, she shows leaps and bounds more enthusiasm when it comes to chatting about, "And you'll have your scents there, too. I bet you'd love to get your smelly, smelly things all over my beautiful, beautiful bar." Nyeh, nyeh. Joining Veresch in the dunk, she's as practical, bemoaning quietly about her hair and commenting, "Suppose they'd best start 'belonging' here, too. It's not like they can go back." She's not entirely sold on the model, but something pensive does strike across her face, slowing her when she intends to climb quickly after Veresch. Catching up to the girl as braids as promised, she reaches a hand to gently support Veresch's jaw. "You don't have to be embarrassed, whatever I say, you hear, girl?" Cause Chel so old. "You're right we're friends, and you can like or not like as many as you care to, to be you. Eh? Eh?? Okay. Let me know if I ever need my darts. Drinks tomorrow it is!" And she half-slaps Veresch on the shoulder and twists to shake her head out like a shaggy dog.

Sacitca continues sorting through her basket, only pausing a moment at Veresch's words. "Perhaps someday it will be…and while I do consider you to be a friend, Veresch…there are many from your time.." She simply shakes her head a little, at that, and returns her eyes to the basket. "But please, don't mind my words - other than that I do consider you a friend." That one is one she means, and her friendship isn't something she gives on a whim. "I'll see you later, Veresch." She'll watch the younger girl leave, perhaps half-wishing at the moment that veils were typical Tlatoani wear.

Padding a little further back in towards the water, Chel pokes a finger into her ear experimentally. A glance past charts that Veresch is entirely out of the baths before she speaks up again, watching Sacitca with a young but keen eye. "She comes from the Weyr." An explanation, an excuse — or maybe just a whole conversation crammed into one innocuous seeming comment due to a shared Tlatoani nature. More seconds where she experimentally runs her hand through her nearly restored hair, frowning lightly, uncertain of its improvements. "It's okay to have a few of 'em up there, hearing things, that like us." There's a tiny upturn of a question at the end, as if seeking permission. Then, just as quick, she's turning her head away, rescinding the need to be accepted. "Either way, I want to send a few ears out for this Reilan, and this Thierry."

"Thierry's a guard recruit, and unless he's had an incredible change of character, regards women as little better than whores and bitches best used for whelping." Sacitca is honest in what little she knows of the young man, and sets her basket down, folding her hands on her lap. "But I do encourage putting ears out for them." She glances in the direction Veresch went. "If I could, if she were a few years younger.." Those words don't find a conclusion. "I know. She's..endeared herself to me over the past few weeks." A small smile crosses the perfumists' lips, and a delicate shrug rolls off of them. "She's nice enough. But Chel, she's still… As much as we may like her, she's still not one of us." It pains Sacitca to say it, as much as she wishes it were otherwise. And it unfortunately takes more than a few Turns to make people from two very different times meld.

"Of course she isn't." It falls easily off Chel's lips, that unflagging and undying pride for the family that Veresch isn't. That same tongue that proclaimed her friend has no trouble disowning her now, on different terms. Still, she casts a glance towards the baths exits. And, as Sacitca knows: Chel surrendered her skirts for pants soon after those strangers from Turns ago showed up. She's not without a touch of their influence burned in. "But she has her uses, doesn't she?" The girl asks more casually, yawning a bit as the calm of the bath starts to fizzle out the various stresses of the day. "Thierry, though," she scoffs, "He sounds like 'one of us'." Now the term is used jokingly, almost scoffing at the absurdness, as she sits down at the edge of the bathing pool. "Sometimes it's like there's not a single original thought between them all." She cocks her head to the side, lips tight and pondering. "I come across at least one every day, touting that bitches and whores routine. Don't they just get— really bored, being themselves?"

Sacitca sighs lightly, and finally strips and slips into the pool as well. She's quick about her bathing so she can lounge in the water for a few minutes. "She does. Perhaps someday we'll even call her one of us in the end." A shake of the head has Sacitca frowning again. "They must not, but that particular one…he's all bark no bite, so far. Just foul in general." A glance toward the way out has Sacitca cringing suddenly. "I'd best be on my way," she says as she slips out of the pool and dries. Her clothes soon follow being put back on. "Mother's on another warpath lately, and it wouldn't do for her to see me here, right now." She flashes an apologetic look at Chel, seizes her basket, and slips off quickly in the other direction. Perhaps hoping to escape the notice of said 'rampaging' mother.

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