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“Then may we take this story to our graves, and drag our heels the whole way there,” the dwarf proclaims as they each down their vodka. The dwarf sets his glass on the side table. Igor helps him with his thick wool cloak and he trudges out into the sleet where he buys two Sausages-inna-Bun™ from Dibbler before stomping off.
“I’ve already made excuses to my superiors, and I’ll check in myself every few hours to make sure the safe house is still secure. You focus on hammering out your agent’s escape route.” |
