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After reaching my room and getting the food and drink situation settled, it was time for Call of Duty. With my Turtle Beaches (headphones, strongly recommended buy for 360 owners) on my head and my beer on my table, it was time to keep rolling. And by god was I rolling. It was one of the best nights I'd ever had on the stix. First game went 29-3 with 6 assists on Seatown. Second game 30-5 with 1 assist on Liberation. Just game after game of me wrecking faces with the stupidest class set ever. Recon Pro, Assassin and Sitrep while rocking LMG's. (My real classes in MW3. Every prestige level I try something new to improve my overall game.)So as you can imagine, I look at the clock for the first time after arriving at my house, and to my amusement it read 4:49. I'm 5 beers, a bag of Doritos and 2 hours in stomping every poor k** on XBOX when my cell rings. Fortunately I was in a pre-game lobby so I was able to hear my ring. It doesn't matter anyway I don't even need to look cause I. He’ll be faster than us, but not by much, so it’ll take him a day or two to run us out of sight. He’d be tempted to believe we’re French. The way Clyde is built may also sway him.”Hastings nodded. “Valid points, Captain. We shall see I suppose.”The foreign sail was soon visible from the deck, and Thomas ordered his ship cleared for action. Of course, the guns were not run out, and the gun crews of the forecastle and quarterdeck were sent below so as not to give away their hostile intent to the presumably American lookouts. The schooner changed its course slightly to south in a subtle attempt to gain the weather gage on Clyde. Thomas decided to follow suite, as any captain of a man of war, British or French, would do if meeting a foreign sail. Of course, the schooner could lie closer to the wind than Clyde, but the American would be leery of being caught against the eastern side of Cap Bon.If the American captain, always assuming he was American, was alert, the weathered appearance of.
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