(1938-11-11) Family Emergency
Details for Family Emergency
Summary: Fabia and Corina wake up together, with Frid in attendance; conversations become progressively more awkward till the gossips of Hogsmeade are given a special treat. (Warning: Some Mature Content.)
Date: November 11th, 1938
Location: Upstairs at the Three Broomsticks

Fabia's Rooms

For the third time in a week Frid shimmers into his employer's bedchamber with her morning cup of tea, only to find her shamelessly Titian tresses blended upon the pillow with the platinum hair of Corina Silver.

On the other occasions he had some warning of what he was liable to see, and that breakfast for two would be wanted; today, it's a surprise.

The floor is strewn with assorted garments, mostly Miss Silver's, but also the violently red silk pyjamas he put out for Mrs Fairfax last night. There's a half-empty bottle of whisky on the floor, and a wholly empty chocolate-box.

It is to Frid's benefit (or detriment) that Corina loves to get nice and cozy under the covers while she sleeps. For with the amount of white clothing on the floor, there isn't much chance she's wearing much under there. The valet's appearance brings a bit of a stir to her, and she shifts slight, cuddling up closer to Fabia and nuzzling her cheek against the other woman's shoulder with a light sigh.

Frid gives the bed, and its unexpected occupant, a glance, lips pressing together for just a moment. Still, the tea and aspirin are set down beside Fabia, but rather than then going to draw a bath or put out clothing (or, as appears to be required, to clean up clothing), he disappears for barely a minute before returning with a second cup on a small tray, another small jug of milk, a sugar bowl, and, just in case, another aspirin. These are set down on Corina's side of the bed, and he moves to slip out once more.

Fabia for her part sleeps hanging on for dear life with every available limb; she and Corina are as compatible in this as they seem to be in everything else. No complaints about you're too warm, or could you breathe more quietly, or what's your foot doing there. She's a heavy sleeper, but Frid's footsteps, the muted rattle of porcelain cup in saucer, are her usual alarm clock; her eyelids twitch slightly; there's movement under the covers on her side of the bed — not that they're not both, really, on her side of the bed…

Her hand emerges, quite naked, her diamond rings having been scattered upon the floor instead of amongst the litter on her dressing-table — and her arm, in a similar state — and for once in her life she reaches first for the tea, not the aspirin.

Frid notes this change in routine, probably using his spider-sense, and pauses, somewhat disconcerted. He does immediately check to see that she's not just knocked the aspirin aside in a hungover flailing of arms, but no, there it is. Where it should be. He hesitates, then quietly moves over towards the window, experimentally pulling back a tiny corner of curtain to let the light stream in.

The light is what finally elicits a groan of protest from the ivory haired girl. "Whahoojooin'…s'too'rly…" Corina mumbles against Fabia shoulder. As she gradually becomes aware of her surroundings, memories of the previous evening bring a sleepy smile to her lips. She pries her makeup-smudged eyes open to slits, scanning for the source of the other sounds in the room. "Friiiid…" She meant to say more, but her own drawl brings giggles that interrupt her thoughts.

What a dilemma. Tea in her hand, Corina on her shoulder. To drink the one, without dislodging the other — Fabia's groggy mind can't encompass the how of it at first. Her lover waking up makes the decision less morally complex, at any rate; now that she won't be the one to wake her, she edges slightly further up in the bed (wouldn't want to dislodge the covers and give Frid a stroke) and lifts her head and shoulders from the pillow. Ah, God. Tea.

"Good morning, Frid," she murmurs through barely-lifted eyelashes, as she manipulates the cup into the vicinity of Corina's lips, rather than guzzling it all herself straight away. "We… we have a guest for breakfast."

"Very good, madam," Frid responds quietly, dipping his head. The curtains are left in their semi-drawn state, enough to give some light without blinding the poor women. He deliberately maintains eye contact with the wall as he makes to leave, just in case, and it's not long before the smell of toasting bread, ham, and a faint waft of lemon come up the stairs and through to the bedroom.

But giving Frid a stroke is Corina's fondest fantasy! (We'll let you interpret that for yourself, dear reader.) When the tea touches her lips and trickles down her throat, it's like pouring life into the sleepy young siren. It gives her just enough energy to groan to a more upright position, leaning against the headboard, the covers falling into place upon her bosom, just above indecency. She smiles adoringly at Fabia, and leans over to kiss her cheek. "Between nights with you and mornings with Frid, I fear I may never leave."

Fabia's cheek presses into that delicate kiss; and she returns it. Good morning, darling. "I don't see why you should, if you don't want to," is her answer to this, as to most things, as she warms her hands upon her tea-cup and her eyes upon Corina sitting just above her. Though remarkably far along in the process of waking up for someone who has only just begun it, she isn't at all her usual animated self; she's still, quiet, serenely happy. … Oh, no, there's the ghost of a giggle. "Oh, dear, I think we surprised Frid. We shall have to sort out a signal to let him know when you're here. Lord, I think he forgot to start the bath, he was in such a hurry to get out. There's tea on your side too, did you see it?"

Frid knocks. This in itself is a rarity, but in circumstances like this, it's probably best. A moment or two later, in he comes, bearing two beautifully presented plates of breakfast, hollandaise sauce dripping over the hot poached eggs of the eggs benedict, and the edge of a ham-bearing muffin poking out beneath. Who knows how he does it, but he presents plates, napkins and cutlery to the two still in bed, all without eye contact, his usual stiff professionalism with guests amplified tenfold.

Corina gives a happy little "ooh!" when she sees the tea. "He does love me." She giggles, reaching for her own cup, dislodging the covers just enough to offer a inappropriate peek to any attentive valets that might happen to be at hand. "Friiid," she calls out in sing-song voice when he appears, "You sweet, sweet man. Is it so terrible being surprised at discovering me in madam's bed? Must we forewarn you?" Her lower lip extends just so slightly in a little pout.

If Fabia were a different woman, she might worry that the lightning speed with which one breakfast became two might indicate that Corina is in fact eating Frid's breakfast — but no, Frid does marvelous things all the time so that she can have just exactly what she wants when she wants it, and she's accustomed by now to being so very, very spoiled. She puts down her empty tea-cup and, holding the covers snugly against herself, sits up a little further; catching Frid's eye, she points with a fingertip to the indistinct red shape on the floor which is probably the top half of her pyjamas and flutters her eyelashes, this being her standard technique for asking for something to be passed to her. She'll need her cover-holding hand, after all, to address herself to this breakfast for which she feels quite the appetite; and it seems as though Corina has happily taken over her own usual task of embarrassing Frid. She giggles rather. "I was just saying," she tries to explain, "that… oh, nevermind."

Frid carefully maintains a straight face through Corina's goading, although when he does glance to Fabia, it's with a look that could freeze lava. Not angry. Just disappointed. Which is clearly worse. He dips down to collect the indicated item of clothing, holding it out to his employer wordlessly.

Not getting an answer from Frid, Corina sighs dramatically. But her disappointment is quickly forgotten, because there is a lovely breakfast tempting her. "Frid, do magical valets learn special spells to do what you do? I've met wizard chefs that cannot produce such a fine meal in the time it takes you. It's quite remarkable."

The corners of Fabia's mouth turn abruptly downward upon receipt of that look from Frid — her Frid, whom she trusts and relies upon more than anyone on the earth, almost the only person whose approval she likes to have for her actions. Knowing he won't be looking now, for he seems to be moving in the direction of running the bath, she lets the covers fall into her lap and slips into her pyjama top and buttons it in perfect silence. And then it's Corina's return to receive a Look, this one mildly horrified. But of course Corina's not to know that we don't talk about magic in front of Frid, or at least we try not to any more than we can help. And it can't be explained with Frid so near.

"I don't know whether there are any magical valets," she says, helplessly but trying to help, "except in the sense that a good valet is always magical far beyond mere spells." She runs her hands through her hair two or three times, and fluffs it a little. Breakfast doesn't look quite as good now. She picks up her knife and fork anyway and commences tinkering with the first half of it.

"I couldn't say, madam," Frid informs Corina politely, straightening to his full height, "but I hope and trust that you will enjoy your breakfast." With that, he sweeps out of the room, intent on running a bath.

Corina chuckles softly, "Well, of course there are magical valets." She gets halfway through a gesture toward Frid, and freezes, her smile dropping. She self-consciously tugs the covers up higher on her body, concealing the teasing skin. "Frid…I'm sorry, I didn't realise," she offers meekly as he hurries out, her face painted with contrition. She gives Fabia an apologetic frown. "I'm such a fool."

"Oh, darling. It's my fault," Fabia whispers, shaking her head slightly, lowering her eyes to the breakfast she has so far only pushed about on the plate, "I thought you knew he was a Squib. Though — how you could have known if I hadn't told you… Anyway do please try not to, to — oh, let's just be good girls today," she sighs, aching with uncharacteristic contrition. "It'll be awfully difficult but I think we ought to try. He deserves so much better than the way we treat him."

Frid lays out four towels, adds bubbles and generally makes himself busy as long as he can before finally retreating back into the bedroom to announce the bath ready. He moves over to the curtains to open them fully, that being his little way to make his displeasure known today. Sometimes it's warm drinks. Sometimes it's inferior gin. This morning, it's bright sunlight streaming in through the windows and onto the bed to exacerbate any hangover.

Corina nods shamefully her head lowered to stare at her breakfast. Her appetite has vanished as well, but it might seem even more insulting not to eat what Frid has prepared, so she nibbles at it, trying to find her hunger again. "I'll be kind. I'm sorry…I thought, perhaps, he enjoyed the game." She sighs, looking positively miserable (but a very photogenic sort of miserable). Of course, the sudden flood of light doesn't help, forcing her to squint, blinded. But, she takes her lashings without complaint.

The two tiny perfect aspirin still on Fabia's bedside table, next to a book unfinished and a glass of whisky with a little left in it, stand testament to the fact that her head isn't so very delicate this morning. Corina got to her before she got to the booze. A miracle of sorts, rendering her — not quite immune to the light, she does wince at the first touch of it upon her eyes, but not by any means agonised. Her gaze falls upon Corina with boundless sympathy. Her darling's first punishment from Frid. Oh, he has his little ways…

Then she looks up at Frid and gives him a tentative, apologetic smile, hoping he'll be in a better temper now that he's expressed himself; and, on the grounds that if Corina is managing to eat, she'd better follow suit, she tries the Eggs Benedict. Of course the taste of it is divine. She sighs accordingly. "Thank you so much, Frid. It's awfully good. … Perhaps a little more tea?"

"I shall have another pot ready for you when you are bathed, madam," Frid responds, dipping his head, a subtle encouragement to actually get up and not while away the entire day in bed, no matter how attractive the prospect. He stoops to collect a ring, setting it down on the dresser and giving the bomb-hit room an appraising eye before moving out of the bedroom to wait outside until it's free for him to come in and fix.

"He's so strict sometimes," Fabia breathes to Corina.

Corina sighs, giving Frid a deferential smile as he departs. When the coast is clear, she delicately sets the breakfast tray aside, and promptly flops over, planting her face into a pillow. "Mf m mbyuf," she mutters, muffled.

"Couldn't have put it better myself, darling." Then Fabia eats another bite or two of her breakfast, quite bravely she feels; and pushes it down to the end of the bed, turning over towards the bedside table. Somewhere here… yes.

Her hands lift Corina's hair away from first one ear, and then the other, as she very gently restores to them the diamonds which belong there.

Corina extracts herself from the pillow, frowning…okay, frowning a little less now that she is bejeweled again. "How can I make it up to him? Will he stay angry with me forever?" Oh, the drama. She slides out of bed, moving to the vanity to inspect her makeup and hair. Winces, she seeks out her wand, fishing from her discarded gown, and returns to the mirror to perform a Hairstyling Charm. One must look presentable for one's bath, after all.

All too aware of what she knows she habitually looks like at this hour, though at least she had less makeup on to ruin, Fabia stares and sighs. "Marvelous. I used to know how to do that when I was a girl, but then of course I couldn't, and one loses the knack…" She draws the other half of her breakfast nearer again and resumes picking at it. "He doesn't stay cross forever," she promises, "or, heavens, he'd have departed years ago beneath the weight of all the damn silly things I've said and done by accident when I'd had a few drinks… I'll talk to him, later, after you've gone, and try to see if I can't… Darling, I meant to ask last time, does your wand do other people's hair too by any chance?"

Corina gives Fabia's reflection a meager smile of relief and gratitude. She turns and moves across to sit at the edge of the bed and wrap Fabia into a hug. "Thank you. Please tell him how awfully sorry I am. I'd tell him myself, but I rather get the impression it could make things worse right now." Without really responding to Fabia's question, she lifts her wand and twirls it intricately around the other woman's head, incanting, "Crinus Muto." The sleep-tangled hair immediately untangles and falls into a perfectly brushed sheen around her neck. Even the colour seems more vibrant, as if freshly dyed. She smiles approvingly at her work.

When the hug arrives Fabia settles into it with a drawn out 'mmmmm' of pleasure. And then! Her hair, so glorious! She twists a strand of it round her finger, admiring the renewed colour — that'll save her a bit of time later in the week! — and pulls Corina into another hug. "Thank you, darling," she sighs. "I must learn how to do some more of these little things. For when Frid isn't in the room, of course."

Corina perks up a bit, "I could teach you. I'm very good at that Hairstyling Spell." She strokes her silky, moonlight-white locks as evidence. She lowers her voice, nibbling her lip worriedly. "So, should I not use magic in front of him? That must be difficult, especially living in Hogsmeade."

"Well, of course people use magic in front of him, it's simply the way things are, one can't expect people not to live their lives because Frid is — sensitive about some things," Fabia says, her shoulders shifting in a gentle shrug. She strokes Corina's hair too; well, who wouldn't, having had the idea put in her mind? "But — I don't. He's used to my being more or less a Muggle. He can't, I don't, it's not the same but we pretend… Oh, do let's get up, darling, I want my tea, and the bath— well, I was going to say the bath will be getting cold, but you could fix that too, couldn't you?" She giggles; her arms leave Corina, but with palpable reluctance, and when she can get up, she does, to admire her hair in the glass and sweep it up into a chignon. "Could you teach me? Oh, do let's, later."

Soon such giggles and shrieks and splashes are spilling out of the bathroom as would give the impression it's occupied not by one Corina Silver and one respectable widow of advanced years, but by two Corinas. … Well. Perhaps it is.

Which is Frid's cue to fix everything. Everything. Discarded clothing is folded, the bed is made, the wreckage of breakfast is cleared away, and by the time the pair ever make it from the bathroom, the bedroom is spotless, clothing laid out on both sides of the bed. One doesn't ask where he managed to procure a clean, new set of underthings for Corina, but it's another one of those things you just have to wonder.

Corina is the first to emerge, giving Fabia a little time to soak in peace without a lusty young lady pawing at her. Wrapped in a bathrobe, her hair bound into a towel, she pauses by the bed, smiling warmly at the sight of the clothing laid out for her. Emboldened, she calls out, "You're a dream, Frid!" Resisting the urge to dry and style her hair with her wand again, she resort to Muggle methods. She's used to it, so often needing to play the part in front of her Muggle clients. Besides, there is nothing quite like the feel of a brush in one's hair. Spells just don't compare.

"I'm the opposite, madam," Frid insists, setting down a fresh pot of tea as Corina emerges. "Dreams disappear in the morning. I appear. May I pour you a cup of tea?" he offers, gaze deliberately turned to the window.

Corina jumps a little. Good lord, how long had he been standing there? She gives him an embarrassed smile, which fades just a touch when she sees him looking away. "Oh…yes, that would be lovely, thank you." She pulls her robe even tight, suddenly all too aware of what she would normally bare in gleeful teasing. "I want you to know how much I do appreciate you, Frid. You take such wonderful care of Fabia — and me, when I am here. You are truly a master of your craft."

Frid dips his head, retrieving a cup and pouring. He adds milk, sugar, stirs, and finally offers the cup across, line of sight moving from window to ceiling. "As I am sure, madam, you are a master of yours. Mrs. Fairfax seems quite taken with your skills. I trust that we do not need to have words about taking advantage of her?"

Corina sighs, and turns in her seat to face Frid, imploring, "Please look at me?" She offers a soft smile. "I would never dream of taking advantage of Fabia. I adore her, and we…well, I'm sure you don't want details. Suffice to say we have a special love for one another, and I would stand right at your side to protect her from anyone that would hurt her. Please don't think this affair has anything to do with my profession. This isn't business."

Frid finally looks at her, frowning just a touch. "I am a marksman with a rifle at a little under half a mile, madam," he states simply. "I shall have faith in you that you will do nothing to harm Mrs. Fairfax, her business, her reputation, or her emotional state."

Corina blinks, and for several seconds just stares at Frid in utter shock. Slowly, she rises from her seat, lifting her chin with lips pursed. "Frid, I pray that I have misunderstood you, because that sounded remarkably like a threat upon my life."

"Merely an interesting snippet of information, madam," Frid insists mildly, dipping his head. "I take my duties in protecting Mrs. Fairfax quite seriously. If we are to expect you in future, might I have a little warning, so I can arrange breakfast?"

Corina narrows her gaze, picking up her wand from where it rested on the vanity and gliding over toward her folded garments. "It's one thing to be upset with me, Frid. I was quite sorry for what I said in my ignorance. But it's another entirely to attempt to intimidate me. That is disgusting behaviour, and here I had thought you a gentleman." She gathers up yesterday's clothes into her arms, shooting him one final, teary-eyed glare before storming for the front door, quietly cursing her lack of talent for Apparition.

Of course it can be a little dull, soaking in peace without a lusty young lady pawing at one. And how Fabia wants her tea! She's out of the bath not so very long after Corina, and, finding her peacock dressing-gown laid out for her, she dries herself perfunctorily before the befogged bathroom looking-glass and pulls the colourful silk garment over her warm, pink, slightly damp skin. She rubs the towel across the glass to have a look at her hair — wet at the back of the neck, but otherwise decidedly attractive, for both of which facts praise and blame belong to Corina — and wastes another moment in wishing she had her makeup in the bathroom so she could be just a little prettier for her lover, a little sooner. But Corina saw her bare face long before they slept together; it would be absurd to start hiding it now. Absurd, and disingenuous.

She opens the bathroom door to find a pristinely tidy room, her clothes laid out, Frid busy about his morning duties, and — no sign of Corina.

She wilts visibly. "Darling?" she calls, flitting across to the doorway, looking through into the sitting-room. How quickly could she have dressed, a girl like that? (Did I fall asleep in the bath?) And then — a gasp of, "Darling…"

"Miss Silver decided to leave," Frid informs his employer stiffly. "I believe she may have misunderstood my intentions."

Corina pauses at the door when she hears Fabia's Voice, fighting with her own instincts. She releases the handle, and turns to face her, adopting a stoic and proud visage, despite the tears on her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Fabia…but I cannot stay here any longer. Not with that…that cruel man."

There's a cruel man in here? It's the first Fabia has heard of it. But there's no time to think what Corina might be getting at; only to hurry to her and look up searchingly into her face, while wiping the tears from both her cheeks at once with trembling fingers. Then her arm twines round Corina's waist, and she steps back, trying to draw her with her further into the room, away from the door… "Please stay," she says, hopelessly, and brings her lips to Corina's in a tender, coaxing kiss. "At least tell me — tell me what happened. A few minutes ago — I don't understand." She looks then from her lover to her valet, with eyes in which bewilderment is shading into fear.

Frid takes a moment to compose himself. "Madam, I assure you that I had no intention of making you feel threatened or uncomfortable. Merely to state how seriously I take my duties to my employer, and trust that you will respect that, and respect her."

Though Fabia's tenderness has a calming effect, Corina remains stubbornly in place, unwilling to be pulled further than arm's reach from the door. Of course, the calm is lost at Frid's words, and she trembles with both fear and rage. "He threatened me. He threatened to sh-shoot me with his rifle if I upset you, after I had just attempted to make up with him and told him I would gladly stand by him to protect you!" She turns her gaze on Frid, the anger finally bubbling up enough to add, "Monster!"

Whilst Frid speaks Fabia's attention is still all for Corina; she gazes up at her intently, lovingly. Then when her lover speaks of threats being made, of shooting, of rifles, that gaze flicks across to Frid. Her face is incredulous — for a second or so. After that, well… it isn't beyond belief, is it? Holding Corina, nestled against her, she meets Frid's eyes from across the room with a consciousness of all he has done for her, all she owes him… she drops her gaze and utters, in a miserable, daunted little voice: "Frid."

Her arm falls away from Corina's waist; without looking at either of them, she goes to sit down on the sofa, her fingers clenching the cushions at either side. She takes a deep breath, and then another, her eyes on her knees.

"Miss Silver, you may stand by my side to protect Mrs. Fairfax," Frid points out, chastened like a schoolboy. "But I will not be standing close by. This is all I intended to convey. I have every faith that you have Mrs. Fairfax's best interests at heart, and not any business arrangement."

Fabia's head flies up. "Business arrangement?" she gasps. "Frid, what did you say to her? I told you it wasn't that way, I told you! Oh, Christ, I can't talk to you now. Corina," she looks at her imploringly, "I am so very, very sorry."

When Fabia moves away, Corina lets out a pitiful mew. But she growls back at Frid through clenched teeth, glaring hotly. "Save your lies. Innuendo is my trade. I could have smelled it on you even if you weren't being so blatantly obvious. To think that I ever though highly of you." She gives Fabia a saddened frown. "It's not your fault. But…I cannot be here any more. I'm sorry…I have to go." Still glad in naught but a bathroom, her clothing in her arms, she opens to door to depart, shaking with barely contained sobs.

Frid's mistress — or is she Corina's mistress? — takes the cup of tea and throws it viciously against the opposite wall as she rises from the sofa. A few steps and her hand is through Corina's arm as she crosses the threshold: "Where?" she says simply, barefoot in her dressing-gown, uncaring.

Corina ducks fearfully at the sound of the smashing teacup — it may as well have been a gunshot. But Fabia's presence is somewhat reassuring, and she clings to the other woman. "Wh-where? I was…going home." Confusion is added to the mix of emotions on her face.

"All right," Fabia nods. "We'll give them rather a show going through the Floo downstairs but somehow I don't give a damn, do you?"

Now this? This Frid cannot possibly allow. He clears his throat quietly. "I shall make myself scarce, ladies. I apologise for any discomfort."

Realisation dawns upon Corina, and she gives a little shake of her head. "I could not care less." She spares one last glance at Frid, shudders, and tears her eyes away. "I don't care if he's here," she murmurs. "I can't be here. This is his domain."

"It's mine," Fabia whispers, looking into Corina's eyes, with one hand cupping her cheek. She has switched to ignoring Frid utterly. "Every brick and every stick of this place is mine; and in any home of mine, you're an honoured guest who deserves to be treated as one." All right, perhaps that was for Frid. "But I won't hold you here, if you can't stay; and I won't let you leave alone as upset as you are. It's up to you, darling. Let's just go, if you want. I don't care." The tip of her finger strokes gently beneath Corina's eye, chasing away another tear just as it begins to spill.

Frid doesn't even tidy the teacup or the tea dripping down the wall. Instead, he just has his eyes on Fabia, hands folding behind his back.

Corina stands still a few moments, trying to have some kind of coherent thought amidst her distress. Her words can barely be heard: "I want to go." Fabia's home or not, Frid is its warden, and it has his touch all over it.

The kiss Fabia gives her lover then is a long, reassuring one; and when their lips part she holds her arm all the more tightly and leads her down the stairs, without a backward glance at Frid. Some hesitance seems to seize her upon the seventh step, but she masters it and continues even faster, hand and feet bare, face bare.

Being out of the actual apartment puts Corina a bit more at ease, and she's still got enough clarity to see the good sense in changing rather than marching through the Three Broomsticks in a bathrobe. In the office, she sniffles, letting out soft sobs. Her hands shake, and she requires Fabia's assistance on several occasions to get her complicated clothing where it ought to be.

Fabia, whose tentative suggestion it was that Corina might like to put on her own clothes, instead of carrying them, helps gladly; her hands are never entirely off her lover's body, always adjusting this or tightening that, or smoothing her hair, or stroking her arm purely for the sake of contact. She dries Corina's eyes with her fingers whenever it seems necessary, refusing to let tears trickle down that lovely face. She seems to notice them always just before they spill.

There's a set of Madam Tabitha's robes hanging on the back of the office door; Fabia discovers them just as the two women are about to step into the corridor again, and hurriedly shrugs them on over her dressing-gown. The dark, witchy garment looks bizarre upon her, but is voluminous enough to make it difficult to discern what, exactly, she has on beneath. She has her arm through Corina's arm, her wrist to Corina's wrist, her fingers twined through Corina's fingers as she leads her — head held high, and damn them all if they think it peculiar — into the taproom, around the bar, and over to the fireplace.

"Do pardon us," she announces airily to the people at the nearest table, who can't help but stare at the proprietress behaving like the madwoman they've always privately — or is it publicly? — thought she was. "Family emergency."

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