Subject: The Notary was indeed doing just that.
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Posted on: 2015-03-26 23:45:00 UTC

Mostly she was fuming in outraged amazement that someone knew and had seen and knew and knew and knew-

She shot to her feet with a noise like a collapsible tent unfolding and turned the kind of glare on the Guardsman that could set fire to the victim's grandchildren. "You will not talk about her. Ever. Indeed, it would be best if we had never had this - oh, I am an idiot."

A flick of her wrist; a red flash followed.

"You do not know the name Lola. You have never known anyone addressed as such. The name is an entirely closed book to you, as, I suspect, are books of any sort whatsoever. You are not aware that I possessed a companion of any kind during any of my regenerations. You derive the most intense sexual gratification possible to comprehend from the thought of being punched repeatedly in the genitals by a hairy bodybuilder covered in fishpaste, and that one's for touching my photograph."

She shoved the neuralyser back up her sleeve and turned to face the others, her expression icy, her eyes dead and listless. "Potterverse wand holsters are such useful things; I don't know why they aren't standard issue," she said blandly. "I shall compose a note to Stores after fetching my drink. Does anyone else want to get their grubby little fingerprints all over my belongings or bring up poorly-shaved apes of debatable sentience? No? I didn't think so."

She was completely unaware that the Guardsman, or possibly the Guardian, she wasn't sure, had been completely unaffected by her neuralyser, since she had flashed it in the face of a rather confused-looking Tribble that was now rapidly re-evaluating its life choices and wondering where it could get its claws on some fishpaste. Head injuries, man. They sneak up on you.

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