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[For the past day or so Philip has stayed up in his room, pretty ill after eating probably half a dozen magic flowers at Robo-Ky's suggestion. Possibly more. He wasn't keeping count. Or maybe it was from drinking motor oil. Tough call. But he'd decided some fresh air might do him some good, so he's out on the porch, lying on his stomach on top of a large plush beetle, flipping through his blank book. His phone is next to it, mostly so he can keep an eye on the time.
He still felt pretty terrible, but at least most of the physical illness had passed so now being alive was at least bearable. Which meant it was time to get back to research.]
He still felt pretty terrible, but at least most of the physical illness had passed so now being alive was at least bearable. Which meant it was time to get back to research.]