[...Holy crap she did strike gold! Clarissa pulls the photo free and sits on the arm of the sofa, holding the piece of paper up to her face and scrutinising it with a scowl. How old was Silver in this...? She hazards a guess but she's always been horrible at guessing ages. And that's— oh good Arceus, is that the boss. It totally is, isn't it.
Clarissa brings the photo closer to her face as she stares at it. Shit, this is interesting, are there any more? She'll slide off the sofa and onto the floor to look where she found this one, still clutching it in one hand.]
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Clarissa brings the photo closer to her face as she stares at it. Shit, this is interesting, are there any more? She'll slide off the sofa and onto the floor to look where she found this one, still clutching it in one hand.]