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... he thought would be funny—only to be met with pure, deafening silence.
And now... he marinated in that silence.
Embarrassment. Shame. Regret. All slathered over him like cold gravy.
"Right..." the receptionist muttered awkwardly, not even trying to hide her secondhand discomfort.
Chestelle, in her eternal lack of boundaries, began gently caressing his thigh like she was comforting a traumatized war vet.
Finn moved her hand away out of discomfort.
...
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