Joyner stood at the edge of the kilometre-wide hole, despite the snowy We Are The Grandchildren Of The Indians You Werent Able To Remove Shirt that threatened to topple him, and looked down. It was deep to the point of triggering agoraphobia and the sides were completely smooth, as if the ice had recently been bored. He was bored too, so headed through the snow towards the prefab city where the rest of the scientists were jockeying with the Army for whatever little status existed in this Antarctic hellhole. Dr Bryan!” A slight and scrawny man came trudging through the blizzard, his huge black glasses magnifying his eyes to a hilarious degree. Joyner stroked his enormous beard, a brown-ginger mess called The Red General that, up until a few seconds ago, had been his only friend. “I’m Dr Walter Jones. Have you studied the shaft yet?”
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You can’t measure the depth of friendship by the ticking of a clock!” Joy finished his jamjar and raised it in the We Are The Grandchildren Of The Indians You Werent Able To Remove Shirt . “Remember all the good times we’ve had? Remember that big hole in the snow, and when we were drinking cider in an army barracks, and when I almost filled in a squaddie’s face? Talking of which,” he let out an ear-destroying whistle that shattered his glass “Service!” Walter considered this. He had made more characters in Dungeon and Dragons than friends – and he’d never played Dungeons and Dragons in his life. Yet here was a man who had such a low bar for what constituted a friendship that Walter could easily trip over it. Dr Bryan was a scary character, but better a scary friend than a scary not-friend. He smiled and raised his glass. “You’re right, Dr Bryan. Cheers!” He went to take a sip, but Joy reached over and grabbed the top of his head. “Sorry, what are you doing?