Anyway, dinner. Jason, in his role as Toastmaster for the con, got up and made, well, a toast. “To Jim,” he said.
“To Jim,” we echoed.
Many topics were covered over the course of the meal, which was excellent, by the way, but the thing I remember most was Matt Hatch being utterly thrilled at his success in derailing the conversation into a discussion of, what else, who killed Asmodean, which is by all accounts his favorite thing to talk about ever. This particular version of the debate was made a bit spicier by the fact that at least three of the people listening to it actually knew the answer. I’m proud to say that they gave away absolutely nothing, though Brandon looked rather like he was going to burst at several points; you could tell he was dying to tell, but he did not say a word, because his RAFO-fu is strong.
All told we chatted and yelled and ate and rambled for a good four hours before the restaurant finally kicked us out, and then we went back to the hotel, and I went to bed because Friday was going to be A Lot.
And lo, it was.
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