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Now This Looks Like A Job For Me, So Everybody… Just Follow Me; because these tunnels need a little controversy, and it feels so empty without an open thread
Topic Started: Sep 24 2017, 09:03 AM (1,054 Views)
The Yugetnam War
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[ *  *  *  * ]
He’d made it all of twenty metres before his body forced him to stop again.

And he supposed - even though it pained him to say it, even though it pained him that he could barely even walk forward before his arm began to scream in pain again - that this was a new record. Not for him, not in total - he remembered being able to run across all of Denton’s neighborhoods in one sitting - but for now, as he tried to move through his tunnels. As he brought his hand upon the cavern wall, dragging it along as his eyes searched for a way out. As his ears searched for any noise, any indication that somebody other than him was in these tunnels. That somebody could arrive and help him, allow him to stop the pain.

And he hated that. He hated the pain. He hated that he couldn’t find a way out, couldn’t see anything, couldn’t even move twenty metres before the pain became too much to handle.

And he hated that he had to find someone else. Had to accept their help. He hated that he needed them to fix him, to reveal his bandages, to do what he couldn’t with only one arm.

But he did.

And he needed them.

Because his bandages, the white cloth he had wrapped around his shoulder had unravelled. Began to fall off. His arm hurt to move, hurt to do anything with. He needed fixing. He needed help.

Because he knew that there were people out there. People who were fighting. Killing. People that he knew he wasn’t going to let win. People he knew he had to stop.

And he knew that if he stayed in here, if he traversed these tunnels forever, they would just fight and kill and there would be nothing he could do about it.

So as much as he hated it, as much as he would loathe to need the help of somebody else in this school, he knew he needed it. He knew he needed to make it out of these tunnels.

So he pushed forward. Dragged his hand along the cavern wall. Let his ears listen out for any noise made.

Looked around, just hoping that these next few metres would provide him with an exit to this place.
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ItzToxie
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[ *  * ]
From down the hall, the bright shine of a maglight flicked on. The beam moved back and forth down the tunnel. The tunnel of light moved along the ground before stopping at Maxwell's feet. The light froze, almost as if not expecting anyone down here, then shined up, moving up his legs, his chest, taking a second to stop at gunshot, then resuming it's ascent, until it brought itself up to meet Maxwell's face.

The light spoke.

"Geez, you look like shit."
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The Yugetnam War
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He’d stopped moving, as he saw the light darting across the floor. Stopped breathing, as the light stopped to focus on his feet. Reeled back, as the light forced itself through his eyes, his arm raising itself to stop what felt like the sun from burning his eyes. Even after that, though, he could still feel the light. The orange covering his eyelids, the vivid shapes and movements that the insides of his eyes created. The holes, the black spots in his vision that were more pronounced, more easy to notice now that he was finally able to see light, now that someone else in this school had found him, now that someone had seen what a day on this island had turned him into.

But given the scratchy, high pitched voice calling from behind the light, given the person who Maxwell knew that voice belonged to, Maxwell couldn’t exactly say that he was all too happy right now.

“Tell me about it.” He said to Michael, trying to move his arm away, trying to look into the light.
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ItzToxie
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"Oh trust me brother, I fuckin' know..."

((Michael Crowe continued from Fifty Shades of Blaine Funtime.))

So this was a turn of events. Let's be real here, of all the people in Denton Mike didn't like, Maxwell was pretty high up on that list. The smug little rich boy tended to grind his gears pretty damn hard. But they weren't in Denton anymore, so any sort of petty shit he felt he had to ignore. The poor bastard, heh, poor, looked like he needed some help, and Michael felt like it probably wasn't something he'd done to deserve getting shot.

"So I ain't gonna ask how your day was 'n shit, coz it's a stupid question, and probably pretty redundant, but I do gotta ask, what the hell happened here?"

He pointed the flashlight towards the wound and spun it around a few cycles...

"You uhhh, you need anything for that?"

Edited by ItzToxie, Sep 26 2017, 04:36 PM.
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Somersault
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((Ramona Shirley continued from Pokestop))

"Oh shit. Shitshitshitshitshit...."

Ramona had always hated tunnels. Who wanted to just stand in a cramped, small area and just go 'round like that? It was stupid, that's what it was, but she still found herself here, barely able to see right ahead even with her flashlight illuminating the way.

She could only hope Felicia was behind her.

To be totally honest, taking a breather seemed like a better and better idea, especially because the tunnels seemed to be trying to constrict the life out of them or whatever. If they were, she was soooo not here for it. Not at all.

They had been trying to find Yumi, but they probably weren't gonna find her here, so she was just about to tell Felicia to go back, make their way back up to the surface, when her flashlight caught something.

Wait, make that someone. Someone who she probably should have been trying to avoid for the rest of the time she was here on this shithole. Maxwell Lombardi. Rich dude, (former?) boyfriend of the very very very dead Lyndi Thibodeaux. Like, the one she had literally sung a funeral hymn for, and helped place in a flowerbed. You know, just your usual funeral things for a dead friend. Nothing out of the ordinary there.

He did kinda look like shit, but Ramona was unsure if that was just her being a hypocrite, with her black eye and all. And wait, there was another person there. Michael. The douchey one, not the weird one who didn't really speak to anybody. She would've liked to think of herself as someone who would talk to anyone, but Douchey Michael was just suuch a drag. He didn't know how it was like to be treated like a pile of human shit, so whatever to him.

At least he didn't seem like a murderous jerk, though. She had had enough of those yesterday. But, she couldn't just stand here staring. Something had to happen. Something like:

"Oh, hey people...You two doing okay?"

It was a way to break the ice.

Felicia better be backing her up here.
Edited by Somersault, Sep 27 2017, 05:38 AM.
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The Yugetnam War
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“Jasmine.”

The word had been spoken as if saying her name would tell Michael all that he needed to know. As if no other explanation was needed as to why he was crawling through these caverns, why his body had become what it had become. Would that be fair? Would that make sense? Had Jasmine done anything after she had escaped that would warrant her name being said like that? To be honest, Maxwell didn’t know. To be honest, he wasn’t sure about anything that had happened other than the fact that people had killed and people had died and that he had to find a way out of these tunnels, he had to find people out there.

And he had to accept the mercy of Michael of all people if he wanted to make it to the surface.

And part of him hated that.

And part of him knew what was going to happen, part of him knew that Michael was going to laugh, sneer at him because he needed help. Because the man standing at the top of the totem pole couldn’t even walk down a tunnel without the help of one of his infidels.

And part of him wanted to just tell Michael to fuck off. Tell him he didn’t need any help. Tell Michael he didn’t need someone like him to laugh, to tell him what he already knew.

But he couldn’t.

Because he knew he needed to make it out of these tunnels. He knew he had to be fixed. If he couldn’t, if he wasn’t, then there would be people dying out there.

People whose deaths he could have stopped.

Murderers who he could have put down.

So as much as he hated it, he knew he needed Michael’s help. He knew he needed Michael’s sneer. He knew he needed to hear that hyena-esque cackling if he wanted to do what he knew he needed to do.



Whatever.

He supposed he could grin and bear it.

“She attacked me. Shot me in the shoulder yesterday. I… tried bandaging it myself, but it looks like it won’t hold unless…”

A pause. Part of him honestly wanted to look away.

“Unless someone else helps me with it.”

Silence, for a moment.

Then another voice. Not his. Not Michael’s. A girl, calling from another part of this tunnel.

Another girl, standing right behind her.

“Felicia?”
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ItzToxie
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So Jasmine's been shooting the shit out of people...

"Alright, thanks for the tip..."

Aaaaand Maxxy-boy did need some help after all! Kind of hard to fix yourself with only one working arm, so it turns out. As bad as it was, it made Michael appreciate the fact he hadn't lost the use of any of his limbs just a bit more to the Eli Roth antagonist.

"Ehhh... fuck it, yeah, I can help with that."

He drew out a sigh, pretending like he was actually taking time to contemplate doing it, just to fuck with Max a little bit. Why not? He knelt down, placing his flash light on the ground, as he speared the katana into the dirt next to him. He ruffled through his bag, pulling out the first aid kit, rummaging through a lot of the used utensils in it. The important thing for this was hygiene, dealing with other people's blood and other fluids meant you had to protect yourself, so he removed the leather gloves, and replaced them with the rubber gloves, and pulled out a paper protection mask for his face.

Okay, the mask was a little over the top, but he wasn't gonna let Maxwell of all people see Blaine's handiwork. As he shuffled through the bag, he figured he'd net himself a little bit of much needed exposition on the state of things.

"So uhh, you hear the announcements? I didn't. I kind of had some more pressing shit to deal with at the time..."

Another voice came right out of nowhere, asking how they were doing.

"Oh, uhhhh... Right now I can say okay, but I'll be honest, I've had a really shitty day."
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Somersault
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A few more steps forward, to see whether she could discern any more of the people she was talking to.

She was still listening though, always listening. People underestimated how important listening was to a conversation, Ramona thought. Sure, you can be the one driving the topic of discussion and such, but if you wanted someone to really open up to you, share their worries and fears, taking a backseat and just being there to listen would always help. Always.

Anyways, it seemed as if Maxwell had run into Jasmine, who was, if she remembered correctly, that gossipy girl who played the violin and was dating Damion. Ramona would've said she was surprised, but in the end, was she? So many people had already been killed, so many people had killed, so was it correct to say that she was surprised by these turn of events? Something could still change. Something had to change.

And then, Douchey Michael called out saying he had a shitty day, and Maxwell called out for the girl standing like right behind her. Felicia.

Wait, hadn't they like dated before or some shit like that? She would've liked to consider herself fairly in the know when it came to gossip going around school, but while people said Felicia was nice as all hell, they also said she was easy as all hell too. But, maybe she was a nice slut. No, not slut. Nice sexually active young woman. That seemed like a good way to put it. It was accurate, and also wasn't horribly offensive. So, it was an amazing description. In any case, it seemed that Felicia and Maxwell knew each other, which was good. Sort of.

Motioning for Felicia to come forward, Ramona still stood back, watching, waiting. She did figure she had to respond to whatever the two dudes a fair distance in front of her were saying, so she called out.

"Yeah, Felicia's here! But, anyways, if you want me to be honest too, my day? Shit-tastic. Shit-fucking-tastic."

She looked back to Felicia, trying to reassure her. "Like girl, we've got to find new people, you know? We could start there?"

Maybe it could work out. Maybe it wouldn't. At least they were making an effort to find people, make a plan? Well, not really the plan part, but the people thing. Definitely.
Edited by Somersault, Sep 28 2017, 11:14 PM.
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KamiKaze
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I'll turn Super Saiyan and save Vale... but first, let me take a selfie.
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((Felicia LaChapelle continued from PokeStop))

She had to keep looking at the GPS. She had to keep looking for that one number, that G015. They still hadn’t found Yumi. Whenever Felicia closed her eyes, she still imagined Lyndi’s broken face, still frozen in a shocked expression. Lyndi had died, because she was so stupid. She missed her already.

She couldn’t let the same thing happen to Yumi.

So, as they walked through the tunnels, Felicia kept one hand on a flashlight and the other on the GPS. Zoom in, zoom out. No sign of G015. Just G022 and G011. She kept hoping that, just this once, she’d spot a blue blip labeled G015. It’d mean she was nearby, okay, safe. That she could get out in one piece.

Eventually, though, two new blips came up. B002 and B029. Felicia froze, then heard Ramona’s voice just a few feet in front of her. She said nothing, until she recognized the voices.

And slowly, she stepped forward. Her heartbeat went at a faster rhythm than her footsteps.

“Max?” she whispered.

Not him too. How many people were abducted? How many weren’t safe?

What was worse was, someone had attacked him. Jasmine, apparently. She was gossipy, and kind of mean. She’d shot him.

She took a few more hesitant steps.

Someone else was there, too. It sounded screechy yet masculine. She searched her memory for a second, then her eyes widened. Didn’t Michael Crowe, the violent bully, have a voice like that? She couldn’t see his face too well, but it sounded like him. She shook her head, but Ramona continued talking.

Right, don’t let Ramona deal with this by herself.

“It’s us, yeah... “

She bit her lip.

“It hasn’t been great for us, either. It’s just…”

She tightly squeezed her eyes and her fingers around the GPS at the same time. It took some strength not to cry again, to not remember Mr. Dolph’s head exploding, to not remember Lyndi’s face caved in, to not think about Yaz getting murdered. But she had to make sure nothing was going to happen on her watch.

“Is it alright if we step closer to take a closer look at your shoulder? M-maybe we can help,” she asked, when she opened her eyes.

They had to help.
Kami's Sidestories
Charlotte "Charlie" Pemberton- Female Student #??- "Um, hey... I know a lot about meat. How much do you want to cook yours?"

They will come back. They always do. We have a place for them.
Felicia LaChapelle (SC)- Female Student #022- Attempting first-aid to the soundtrack of an Eminem song.
Miranda Millers (SC)- Female Student #024- Pranking people not quite to death with a tire iron

In Loving Memory Of Those Killed in a Mini


Quote:
 

Bake We'll just ask Elena to add a new area into the compound. "Siobhan's Cleavage" - The spaciously large cleavage of an overweight, promiscuous cheerleader who wants to go to Beauty School. THREADS ALLOWED: 8

12:40 Slamexo She [Sidney] sells trollin' and trollin' accessories

02:41 Medic Why does the world hate my racist jackass--wait that speaks for itself.


Click here for awesomeness. Your brain will be BLOWN. : D
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The Yugetnam War
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There were voices, in the tunnels. Questions directed towards him. People he had to respond to.

None mattered, though.

None except Felicia.

Because she was there. Standing. Right in front of him. Even if Michael was trying to help him, even if Ramona was trying to talk, nothing about what they could do in this moment measured up to the fact that Felicia was there. Alive. Unhurt. Even if she was comparatively less important than some of the other people on this island, even if the two had broken up before, it didn’t matter. She was here. She was his friend. She was one of the only people in this school Maxwell could say he liked and she was there. Standing. Right in front of him. Uninjured. Unfazed by everything that had happened in the past few days.

And she was there.

With him.

And now he could protect her.

And now he could make sure that no-one else on this island could do anything to her.

“I-”

The words forced themselves out of his throat as he stood up.

“Felicia-”

As he took a step.

As he fell forward down to the ground, pain screaming in his arm.

“I-”
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ItzToxie
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Well, from the looks and sounds of things, everybody's been through the fucking ringer as it turns out. It was pretty fucked up to think, but Mike was glad he wasn't the only one who'd seen some shit. Maybe it'd be easier for everyone who wasn't cracked the fuck out on murder juice to sympathize with each other.

His thoughts were pretty much confirmed when the newcomers were also wanting to help out with Max's fucked up shoulder. That was fine to be honest, they might know more about it than he did, anyways. Max was definitely going to need all the help he could get, too. The poor bastard looked like he was barely holding on. Mike watched as Maxwell tried to speak, then flop to the floor.

"Damn!"

Yeah, he was gonna need to be fixed up quick. Real fucking quick.

Mike grabbed the flashlight and med kit, bolting over to the prone rich boy. He brought his own face, now consisting of nothing but shades, hair, and a medical mask, over into Maxwell's glossy view. His rubber gloved hand shook Max's unfucked shoulder, as he raised his voice.

"Hey! Get the fuck up, Max! We can't fix your shit if you're trying to bury it in the ground, man! You can't just rub dirt on that shit, that won't help, get up!"

He tried to at least put him into a sitting position, before looking at the other two behind him.

"Hey, you guys were wanting to help him, right? Well, uhh, right now would be the best fuckin' time to do that shit, the reunion can wait 'till later!"

Michael had no time to try and pussyfoot around. Call him rude, call him an asshole, whatever, if they didn't hurry the fuck up, then Max won't be able to talk with anyone, he'll just be yet another corpse someone could've done something about.
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decoy73
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((Zubin Wadia continued from Murder: Often A Regrettable Action.))

So, that was weird. Either way, he was alone, and that was bad.

Either way, he was taking a bit of a risk here, in this dark, enclosed space.

Cough

Dammit it was musty in here.

"Hey!"

He heard something. No, someone. Zubin stepped in the direction of the voice.

Hey, you guys ...

Zubin ran. Thank god for small miracles.

There were four of them, and hoo boy

"That's not good."
Second Chances 2
Male Student #18: Zubin Wadia Status: ACTIVE; Weapon: Franchi SPAS-12
Female Student #32: Sarah Miller Status: ACTIVE; Weapon: The Complete Works of H.P. Lovecraft Hardback Edition

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Somersault
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To be totally honest, when Zu-whatshisname started going in and saying things did not look good, Ramona had half a mind to go sass him the fuck out, but she knew there were much more important things to do, like making sure that the guy laying the fuck down on the ground right now wasn't gonna go die on her. Michael was also screaming now, telling them to hurry the fuck up and help, and yeah, she was gonna go do that, but he didn't need to act like an ass.

"Okay, okay! I am helping here, but we've got to first disinfect it or something, because keeping it like this? No way it's gonna get better."

She knelt down to the ground, trying to shine more light onto the gunshot wound, wincing as she did so. Sheesh, someone got messed up good. But, good deeds and all, and Maxwell? Helping him out here definitely counted as a good deed, and so she quickly got her first aid kit, frantically looking for some kind of disinfectant. Jesus, she needed to find it quickly. Time was tick-ticking away, and making sure that the bloody-ass wound didn't get infected was a pretty big deal.

Her hand felt some kind of wipes, which she found quickly, fist tightening around them. When she had cut herself on that table, she used some of those wipes, right? Antiseptic things or something? Regardless, they were probably used to make sure wounds didn't get, well, septic, so everything would be okay when they started to bandage it back up again.

Ramona looked around, seeing the other people around, trying to mentally will them to action. Wasn't someone gonna do something?

"Hey, people! Can someone go brace Maxwell so I can put these wipes on him and help his shoulder not rot off??" She shouted.

Then, she looked at Michael. Still a douche, but also trying to help. Could kinda respect that in someone.

"You know more about first aid or something? Because believe me, after putting on these wipes and maybe putting on bandages, I have like no idea what to do here. You hear me?"
Edited by Somersault, Oct 3 2017, 09:47 AM.
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KamiKaze
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I'll turn Super Saiyan and save Vale... but first, let me take a selfie.
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Max had tried to stand up. That wasn’t good. Felicia saw how unsteady his movements were. He seemed… dazed. She took a deep breath inward. He really was that hurt. She knew being shot was no walk in the park, but he could be bleeding out. He could be…

He stumbled forward, and Felicia felt herself grip tighter on the GPS.

Right away, Michael had swooped in, telling them that they could save the reunion talk later. It was in the bluntest way imaginable, typical of what she knew of Michael. But, thing was, he was right. Hesitantly, but also surely, Felicia nodded.

“Right,” she said, putting the GPS into her jacket pocket.

She stepped forward a bit more, and crouched down. Now that she was a bit closer, she could see the wound in the dim light. It looked awful. They had to do everything they could and more.

“I’ll keep him steady,” she said. “Ramona, make sure you apply pressure when you do. It’ll st-stop any… any bleeding.”

She reached out to do so, moving slowly. She’d have to be gentle yet firm enough. Maybe they could elevate the limb a bit? Felicia didn’t know a ton about first aid, but she knew a bit. Cheerleading was full of injuries, and it was important to know what to do if someone was hurt. Like when Lyndi-

Lyndi.

She shook the thought out of her head. She had to keep focused.

“Hey, Max, we’re here, okay?” she told him. “Things are… they’re going to be okay.”

Some part of that felt like a lie. Her mouth got dry, but she knew he needed help.

Felicia heard another voice, and her head snapped up. Her racing heart had stopped for a moment. She hadn’t seen anyone else on the GPS when she last checked, but it was definitely someone else.

Zubin was an odd boy, and Felicia had all kinds of thoughts on him. But she didn’t even think. She just said what came to mind first.

“Don’t just stand there!” she yelled. “He needs help!”
Kami's Sidestories
Charlotte "Charlie" Pemberton- Female Student #??- "Um, hey... I know a lot about meat. How much do you want to cook yours?"

They will come back. They always do. We have a place for them.
Felicia LaChapelle (SC)- Female Student #022- Attempting first-aid to the soundtrack of an Eminem song.
Miranda Millers (SC)- Female Student #024- Pranking people not quite to death with a tire iron

In Loving Memory Of Those Killed in a Mini


Quote:
 

Bake We'll just ask Elena to add a new area into the compound. "Siobhan's Cleavage" - The spaciously large cleavage of an overweight, promiscuous cheerleader who wants to go to Beauty School. THREADS ALLOWED: 8

12:40 Slamexo She [Sidney] sells trollin' and trollin' accessories

02:41 Medic Why does the world hate my racist jackass--wait that speaks for itself.


Click here for awesomeness. Your brain will be BLOWN. : D
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The Yugetnam War
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((so sorry for the wait genuinely didn’t realize it was my turn))

He felt the ground.

He felt the pain.

He heard her voice.

And he heard the bark, the call of the other two as they moved in on him. He felt his body get pulled up, gravity still trying to push him back down as he stopped feeling the dirt against his face, as the rock and the darkness surrounding him was replaced with Felicia, her face illuminated in the dim light.

And he felt like an idiot, for moving. For running. For rushing towards Felicia as if he was some lover boy blinded by her face, forgetting about everything that had happened to him. He knew someone would laugh at that. He knew someone would make fun of him for falling on his face, but he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Felicia was here. Felicia was safe, and now he could make sure she didn’t leave his sight.

And now he could make sure that his mistake with Paris didn’t happen again.

“Don’t worry,” he said, looking Felicia in the eyes. “Once this… once my arm is fixed, once I get out of here…”

He paused.

Looked away, for a second.

Questioned whether or not he was saying the truth, whether or not he could truly do what he was about to say.

“I can stop this. I can stop the killing.”

He heard the voice, he could see the shape of the fifth person if he turned his head, if he forced the pain out of his shoulder.

He didn’t matter, though. Not right now. Not until he finished talking.

“If I can do that, I can make things okay again.”
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