‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. “Holy shit!” Giggling and snickering was amplified by asbestos tiles and reverberated by metal desks. She warmed to him fast, her anger was much harder to carry than the pleasant everyday neutrality of affection. Somewhat alarmed at his appearance, Thames laid his hand upon his sword. She had felt deserving of the punishment, as he had been mainly concerned that she would be killed by accidentally falling into the pit, but it was a terrible insult.
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