"He won't move out."

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"He won't move out."

"SO? HE'S ONLY WHAT, 20-SOMETHING?"

"30-something; I didn’t mind it as much when he was 20-something.”

“SORRY. I’M A BAD JUDGE OF PEOPLE’S AGES DUE TO BEING SO OLD MYSELF. SO WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO?”

“Well, I was hoping you could help me set him up with someone and they could move in together?”

“YOU DO UNDERSTAND THAT I RUN THE LONDON MAFIA AND NOT A DATING SITE?”

“I do, but I also know that you’re the best person I know to fix something.”

“I SEE. WELL BY A HAPPY COINCIDENCE I MIGHT BE ABLE TO HELP. HE WORKS IN WESTMINSTER UNIVERSITY, DOESN’T HE?”

You’ve always been impressed by how much Macavity knows, usually about very obscure things. On the one occasion, you decided to ask him about it, he just shrugged and said “I HAVE MANY FINGERS IN MANY PIES”, and the subject was never mentioned again.

“That’s right, yes. Why do you need an insider at the university?”

“THE LESS YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT, THE BETTER.”

That’s certainly true. Whatever it is, it’s bound to be bad.

“VERY WELL. I’LL WORK SOMETHING OUT AND SEND YOU A MESSAGE VIA THE SHARKWEB WITH A TIME AND PLACE TO SEND HIM. TRAPDOOR OR REGULAR DOOR?”

“I’ll take the normal exit thanks.”

“Trapdoor. I’ll live a little.”

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