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... d to protest the language, the bluntness—but Toby was drinking.
Slowly, painfully, but drinking.
Viktor’s hand remained steady, supporting Toby’s head as he tipped the cup again.
A bit of the liquid dribbled down the boy’s chin, but Viktor didn’t rush. He waited, patient, letting Toby swallow at his own pace.
"Good," Viktor said quietly when the cup was half-empty. "More."
It took what felt like an eternity, but Toby finished it.
Every last drop. < ...
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