“That’s what we narcs have to do. And put ‘em in little books for remembrance. She crept behind the open door and pounced on him when he came out of the bathroom, knocking him onto the floor with a loud thud. Kneebone," she added, drawing up her magnificent figure to its full height, and making the heavy cudgel whistle through the air, "look to yourself. There she would wander about in the kindly darkness. His blood would be sweet with it. I had a hunch.
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