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... oiled bad decisions and poured them into the gutters.
Lyan and Will limped through it anyway.
"Well," Will muttered, one hand on his ribs, the other rubbing at a bruised jaw. "I can safely say I’ve discovered muscles I never wanted to meet. Everything hurts. My everything has an everything."
"That," Lyan said, cloak shifting around his shoulders as he walked, "is what ’controlled violence’ looks like."
Will shot him a flat look. "That tavern was about as controlle ...
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