Glitterbombed [Closed]
The town was sort of weird. She wasn't sure how big it was, or if it all looked so... old. Maybe she was wandering around the historic district? Or the slums. Would explain the abandoned buildings.

She was walking funny and sticking close to the buildings, squinting painfully in the morning sun. She felt like she'd lost a fight with a bull, mostly because she had done basically that. And then the bull had fucked her, as if to emphasize just how badly she'd lost.

Stupid fucking bat-demon-thing.

She was wearing nothing but a hoodie, about eight sizes too big. The base of it came down almost to her knees, bony and scraped and part of too-thin legs. There was glitter and what might have looked like dried glue absolutely covering the inside of her legs, all the way down to her ankles. What was visible of her chest and neck was only slightly less coated, sparkling and shimmering when the light hit it like a very unfortunate, very shitty vampire. Her hair, too, was glittering dramatically, silver stars in a black night sky.

She looked kind of like she'd been a hazing victim, actually.

She wasn't quite sure what she was looking for. A source of food or clothing would be nice. If she saw a person, she could ask to borrow their phone and then bolt. A dangerous prospect when her legs felt so wobbily, though. While she could, under most circumstances, escape nearly anyone, these were... subpar circumstances.

And so onward she wobbled, hoping to find a more populated section of city. Or at least a building that might have a dumpster attached.
It was far too early to be awake. Way too early. Especially on a Sunday when one had worked until three the previous night. But she owned a club that was very popular in town, right smack dab between the college and art districts. She’d bought the building for its character more than its location; though, the location helped. She had more money than she knew what to do with as a result. The downside was all the work involved. She could probably hire more people... but that would legitimize things to an extent she simply wasn’t comfortable with beyond what occurred as happenstance. Not when she did it all for her own pleasure. Wasn’t 80% of a business’ success hinged on location?

Uncharacteristically, she snorted, realizing that she was thinking too much—again.

At any rate... she didn’t particularly like being up so early, but she’d had to pick up her orders from the tailor because he had a trip to go on. And like any good Frenchy, he closed shop when he went on vacation. So if she hadn’t gotten them at the crack of dawn, she wouldn’t have gotten them for at least a month. Such a thing simply wouldn’t do, even if she never complained about it.

She brushed silver-white strands out of her eyes after shutting the trunk of her black ’65 Shelby Cobra 289. She’d have put the suits in the car, but it was a two seater and a convertible to boot, so she just didn’t feel like putting the top down or dealing with plastic blowing all over the place.

Maybe she should have sent Saint to pick them up. He’d have done it; grumbled about it a lot, but he’d have done it. As this thought passed, she tossed the keys once in her hand as she stepped back on the sidewalk and moved towards the driver’s side. One hand was in the pocket of her black slacks, half tugging up on the suit jacket she normally donned. Black lace—a stark contrast to the white dress shirt—peaked barely from beneath her cuffs; the collar was also trimmed in it. She wasn’t wearing a tie either, and, a few buttons were undone to reveal a fairly flat chest. Pink scaring hinted there, but it was hardly noticeable to most.

But just before she got in her car, something pricked at her Blind Sight. Right at the edges. Hand still on the car door handle, cool blue eyes shifted to the girl wandering down the sidewalk all by her lonesome. At least, she looked like a girl; felt like one too. But the parts didn’t always count. Ruka knew that better than anyone.

She raised a thin silvery brow, making no move to leave even as the sun rose a little higher in the sky—reminding her she had a warm bed to get back to for a few hours.

(Car Ref Pic)
Sometimes I feel like a girl~... sometimes I don't~ C00l
The person and the car were the first real signs of life she'd managed to stumble across. She hung back slightly, watching. She couldn't tell, at this distance, if it was a man or a woman, and that mattered. She was feeling very gunshy about strange men at the moment. It had been several weeks since she'd last seen one that hadn't wanted to stick its dick in her, immediately if possible. She didn't want to try her luck if she could avoid it. Although the fancy, old-style car and expensive dress were somewhat promising. Rich people were anything but generous, but sometimes could be impressed upon to hand over cash as a way to make you to go and be stinky and pathetic somewhere else, somewhere far away from them.

She stumbled a little closer, all too aware that if the person just got in their car and drove off, she'd be in the same position as before. She certainly wouldn't be given a ride in a car that fancy... But people were also very unlikely to perform a kidnapping in a convertible, probably.

She seemed to catch the person's attention as they were about to get in their car. Seeing their face from this distance was only a slight clue as to their gender... she suspected woman, or very pretty man. That wasn't necessarily reassuring. She had bad luck with very pretty men. But this one didn't appear to have wings or horns and so, at this point, she'd take what she could get.

She wandered forward, wondering if the person would quickly get in their car and drive away. But, she reminded herself, she didn't necessarily look homeless right now. Crazy, perhaps, wandering down the sidewalk at dawn in nothing but a hoodie clearly designed for someone build like The Rock. But she could play up the sympathy factor more than she normally could.

"Um, excuse me," she called out finally, nervous but deciding to risk it. "Could you tell me where the..." What should she even be looking for. She couldn't just say 'dumpster' out loud. She glanced down at herself. "...Campus is? In comparison to here?" she settled on. Hopefully there was one, and she wasn't about to receive an alarmed 'two cities over' in response.
Ruka watched. Primarily because that’s what she usually did best—watch others. Unlike her sister, she didn’t possess the gift of empathy; not that she wanted it, given how difficult it was to learn how to block the lashing of people’s feelings. Thoughts, by comparison, were much easier to shield. Watching was something she’d had to learn long ago—carefully. Noting body language, facial expressions, the way a person closed their arms over themselves to seem smaller or widened them to rest hands on the back of their neck to seem larger. Though the latter could be a sign of relaxation; it just depended on the individual.

But this waif of a girl was anything but confident at the moment, even as she shyly stepped closer. She seemed to close in on herself, especially given how prone her eyes were to look away or down. And her appearance wasn’t helping matters either. The hoodie was large enough that she could appear to be wearing a shirt and shorts under it all, but it made her seem naked as Ruka knew her to be. It also didn’t help that she was half dirty and half covered in glitter, looking as though she’d either been partying hard all night, had been hazed at a said party, had been—Draco forbid—raped, or a combination of all three.

Like with so many others, so many times before, the urge to aid plucked in her breastbone as if it had been made to do nothing else. And as with all things, she accept her path, and smiled gently at the young woman.

“You’re not too far,” she offered just as gently, voice soft and yet loud enough to heard. It wasn’t entirely male or female, not too deep or too alto; calm—always calm. Warm. Her smile was warm too; some called it carefully practiced, but it came naturally to her—just barely there, as she had a sense of knowing that no one else did. Aristocratic features were not too sharp, but pretty all the same. Indistinguishable in terms of gender, or a preference for one or the other, if any.

Ruka released the handle on her car door and decided to lean back, her bum resting on the edge. One leg crossed over the other and she let her hands rest on the door as well, to either side. A position of comfort; hopefully it wouldn’t scare her off. But the look of relaxation would also convey that the timid creature could scamper off if she felt she had to and it wouldn’t necessarily be all that easy for Ruka to chase. She wouldn’t of course, but the girl couldn’t know that.

She tried to figure out what to say next, because that plucking in her chest made her want to help. And it was always difficult to tell how best to help, how someone wanted to be helped, until she talked to them for a bit.

She tried anyway. “Are you lost?”
Sometimes I feel like a girl~... sometimes I don't~ C00l
The voice didn't really give them away either, to Ren's mild frustration. She approached men and women differently; it was upsetting not to know the level of risk she was dealing with. Of course, her Acceptable Level of Danger had very recently been blown clear out of the water. She hadn't thought she'd ever find anyone more dangerous than the last man she'd lived with. She had. Probably because she'd been stupid enough to think that; every time she gave the universe a set-up, it delivered.

She continued to approach, trying to look sheepish rather than terrified. She wanted sympathy, but she didn't want the police called.

"Um, yeah," she said, noting that she hadn't actually been told which direction the campus was in. "I'm not really familiar with this side of town. Or... what side of town it is. But if I can find campus, I can get home from there."

Barefoot. Half-naked. Alone. C'mon. You want to help. You know you do. Feel that little plucking your chest, pity. Could you live with yourself if you left? Would you spend the next few hours wondering? You don't want to be the cause of the next missing person's poster, do you?

It had worked plenty of times before. Not always to her benefit, because sometimes people really wanted to be the cause of the next missing person's poster.

What could she wrangle out of this situation? Cash, maybe. Possibly a lift to 'campus,' where it would be much easier to swipe things like clothing, food, and money.

"It's, um... Saturday, right?" she added for good measure. It was Sunday.
It was quite possible she was going to come off as a creeper. Because people that looked like her—like Ruka—did not just offer random half naked girls rides to a safe place. People who looked like very rich men who probably spent their nights drinking, whoring, and spending far too much money on useless shit; while former two were true, she couldn’t say she often spent money on useless... anything. (She really didn’t drink that much... usually.) In her experience, very rich men who offered homeless-looking girls a ride in any realm were aiming to get in their pants and take advantage of the situation. Not that Ruka would mind, but she wouldn’t offer. Not in this situation. But she had eyes, and the young woman was cute enough. But really didn’t look like she wanted anything close to that. What she probably needed—wanted—was a warm bed, warmer food, a shower, some new clothes, and a bit of dosh.

Ruka yawned rather unexpectedly just then. Right. Bed. She smiled rather sheepishly, the spell only slightly broken for a half a moment as she scratched the back of her head, eyes shut, and sighed. “I apologize, I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

But... back to the issue at hand...

It would be easy to come right out and ask her if she wanted help. But the world didn’t work like that. For all her inability to lie—Ruka’s—she knew that people liked to tip toe around things. Which, in this situation, was good. The young woman didn’t know her, after all. She wouldn’t very well just ask if she wanted a ride...

“Sunday,” she corrected. Another brief and warm smile. “You’ve had a long night, it seems,” she openly observed. Not quite direct. Good.

“You’ll have to go that way,” she jutted a finger, half answering as she pointing up the road. “But it’s not good for bare feet, in my humble opinion.”
Sometimes I feel like a girl~... sometimes I don't~ C00l
Ren let her eyes roll up and to the left, as if thinking, biting her lip. Practiced, and a bit childish-looking for her age. She'd been young when she'd learned. "Ssssunday. Yeah... that would be a long night, then."

They didn't know the half of how long her goddamn night had been, that was for sure. But 'yeah I'm probably pregnant with the anti-christ now haha' wasn't a very good way to get help.

"I guess we both had long nights," she said with a laugh and a forced smile. She'd never been the best at forcing either, but she was a bit desperate. 'Hey, rich asshole, you can afford it, fucking feed me' wasn't a good way to get help either.

They were dancing around an inevitable conclusion, she felt. She eyed the convertible. Open top made for very easy emergency jumping. Most people didn't think folks would leap from a moving car. Inner-city streets meant slow movement meant safer bailing. A lift to campus was a lift to a public place, not to, say, a house.

Also, she was barefoot, mostly naked, and without a pocket rat. Chances of the second person she ran into being any better were very slim. And frankly, at this point, if they were a guy who wanted to fuck her, she'd do it for a hot meal and a change of clothes. Better deal than the last half-dozen or so. Definitely better deal than the last one, in particular. Although arguably, 'her life' was one favor that was worth getting fucked for.

"I don't suppose you have a pair of shoes in that car," she joked, then looked down. "Or, uh, pants," she added with a laugh that she hoped sounded more natural to their ears than hers. Not her best work... she was tired. "I'd ask for a ride, but I think I'd just get glitter all over your car."

It was not glitter. The thought of getting demonic semen all up in someone's expensive car was infinitely humorous, though.
Ruka had genuinely been expecting the young woman to be a bit more skittish. So she was either warming up to her company or wasn’t all that skittish at all. Or, the most likely, putting on a front of some kind. Down and outs came in all types, but those were the most common. She’d seen enough of it, experienced enough of it herself, to know. Black memories, but not as black as they used to be for sure. No pain in them anymore; just acceptance.

Still, the expression was endearing even if she suspected it wasn’t entirely earnest.

“Weekends are always long for me,” she said, keeping up the rapport. “And I count them as well spent if I don’t find myself separating two drunks and escorting them off my dance floor.” Which was true, but she rarely got involved. Saint, Setrin, and Saydri did a decent enough job keeping the lowlifes out and off people without her help. And by lowlifes she meant people with grabby hands, terrible attitudes, and not enough sense the Gods gave a box a bricks.

She refrained from appearing surprised as the girl asked for shoes and pants, and then hinted at wanting a ride. Some part of her had imagined that they would go back and forth a few more times, building the foundation of trust, before Ruka out and out offered. But this was better; it made it her idea rather than Ruka’s—a stranger out at the crack of dawn on empty city streets in not-the-best-part-of-town.

She tossed her keys in the air once more and smiled after the beat of a moment, a little amused. That smile had more inflection this time because she was. “Car seats can be cleaned,” she said, taking a very risky chance, saying this as if it wasn’t much a bother—because it wasn’t. “If you’d you like, I was thinking of getting breakfast. And I certainly wouldn’t mind the company. As for clothes...” The only clothes she had in her car were the suits she’d picked up. And she didn’t mind sacrificing one; they were just clothes, no matter how early she’d risen to obtain them. But they wouldn’t quite fit her as Ruka’s frame was much taller and shoulders a bit wider.

“I can get those if you’re not opposed.” Because she really was opposed to scaring her off. And just to give her more time to think about it before responding, she stood straighter, but didn’t move forward, and offered a hand. “Ruka, by the way. Ruka Kato.” Another warm smile.
Sometimes I feel like a girl~... sometimes I don't~ C00l
Oh, a club owner? That could be good or bad. She had a little experience, but only a little. Could explain the laid back attitude in a genuine way; antisocial people didn't tend to own bars. But it also could imply a hedonistic sort of personality. No way of really knowing. In the end, it genuinely did not matter.

"I promise I've never been one of them," Ren joked. "I'm not old enough to drink." She actually had no idea whether this was true or not. But she certainly didn't have the ID with which to buy alcohol.

Ren considered. The car ride had been her idea, but breakfast and clothes... It was risky, because it implied more concern than a base level of "I'm going that way anyway." More concern meant that they wanted something in return, almost certainly.

It was a shame exchanges never went, "hello, I have been fucked by a demon and I have no idea where the hellshitfuck I am. Please give me pants. I will give you head if you give me pants." It would be easier. But you couldn't trust people to be honest, so it paid not to be honest yourself.

She weighed her options, unmoving, eyes probably a bit more clearly suspicious than she would have liked.

...She was very hungry, very naked, and probably already pregnant. She had just escaped from a human trafficking ring. Honestly. Honestly? At this point, she sincerely doubted anything they wanted to do to her would be as rough as what she'd been through.

"Ren Clarke," she lied with a less warm smile, but one that was at least trying. "I don't want to impose, but I also really don't want to walk all the way home without shoes."

She approached the car with the gait of someone walking towards the gallows, but she was determined. If she actually got breakfast out of this, it would be a good deal either way. Just so long as they didn't try to keep her. Again. That kept happening.

She shook the offered hand once she was close enough, depositing no small amounted of """glitter""" as she did. It was a bit difficult not to laugh at the thought. At least there was some good humor to be found in being covered with dried demon come. "Thanks. Seriously. Breakfast sounds great. Pants sound even better."
If Ruka could read her thoughts—and she could, just wouldn’t—she might have laughed at the assessment of ‘possibly hedonistic’. Half because Saint would agree—because he was a prick—and half because it wasn’t really true. Mostly. Not unless the party was willing and that was their taste. But she couldn’t, so it didn’t matter much.

Ruka shrugged at the ‘promise I’ve never been in one’. Wouldn’t matter if she had been, or if she’d had alcohol. Every realm had different laws depending on a number of variables and customs. The only reason she didn’t let under age kids drinks was because she liked to avoid trouble. But, whatever happened behind closed doors... none of her concern.

She was indeed quiet for a while, as Ruka imagined she would be—thinking, considering, weighing the pros and cons of getting in a car with a strange man who looked like he ate money for every meal. Couldn’t be helped though; Ruka liked nice things even if they didn’t have much weight in the long run.

But once she gave her name and took her hand, Ruka smiled again—well enough to make her eyes nearly shut. Her grip was solid, but not too hard, as she shook once and released her grip. “Very nice to meet you, Miss Clarke. Or would you prefer Ren?” she was mostly doing it to be cheeky, now that some kind of mood had been set, but she didn’t let it show too well on her face. “I wouldn’t want you to either. It’s no easy trek, barefoot or not.”

Ruka stepped around the car to the passenger side, keys swinging around and around on one finger. But she stopped that as soon as she made it to the door and opened it for Ren. “Whenever you’re ready.”

As she thanked her Ruka couldn’t helped by be warmed by it. She didn’t think the other woman wasn’t still put off a little, not if the way she’d approached her just before taking her hand were any indication. “I should thank you. My morning was quite devoid of anything worthwhile moments ago.”
Sometimes I feel like a girl~... sometimes I don't~ C00l
Ha... 'Miss Clarke.' Now that took her back.

"Either is fine," Ren said, mostly because she was worried professing a preference for "Miss Clarke" would be construed as rude. She knew who Miss Clarke was. She hadn't been Miss Clarke in years, but it was less personal than Ren, which was as much her actual name as anything really could be.

Besides, she was probably on the other side of the country or something. If nothing else, "Mister Clarke" was unlikely to hear about it.

She couldn't help hesitating briefly before sliding into the car. Not out of any real nerves, although perhaps it had been a terrible thing to invoke Clarke right before getting into the car with a stranger who seemed genuinely kind. But no, actually, it was just because the interior looked so luxurious. It felt like the sort of thing that would bounce her back into the air rather than suffer to have her filth sitting on it.

But she did sit down, and the upholstery did not reject her outright. She had the good grace to wait until Ruka wasn't looking to rub her filthy, filthy legs on the seat, scratching off glittery, dried semen.

That last comment, though. She didn't grimace, though part of her wanted to. That sounded very much like the sort of thing someone very much intending to have sex with her would say. Something worthwhile? Pfff. Not to anyone who wasn't planning on using her for something. Hopefully sex, just because anything else would probably be worse.

"If you feel like thanking me," she joked instead. "I suggest pancakes."
“Ren it is then,” she said with a short nod. Not exactly the reaction she was hoping for, trying to lighten the mood further. But, Ruka couldn’t make everyone smile all the time; certainly not if they’d had as shitty a night as the other woman appeared to have had.

She almost snorted at the way the girl rubbed herself all over the car seat after she got in, after she’d shut the door and turned her back for a moment to go back around. She supposed she should be upset; she knew how much the Italian leather cost, but she could be bothered to really give a damn. Not if it made the slip of a girl happy for a few brief moments. Maybe if the intent had been malicious, perhaps. But it wasn’t, and so she found it more amusing—as usual—than irritating.

She wanted to compare her to a child, but it didn’t suit very well with her initial assessment—an adult, if not small adult, woman. And she wasn’t up for feeling like a pedophile. Ever.

Without much effort, she slid into driver’s seat, put her seatbelt on, and turned on the engine, making sure to shift into the right gears and hold down the clutch. The car purred to life like a roused jungle cat. Briefly, before going anywhere, she looked over at Ren. “Don’t forget to buckle. I could probably talk my way out of a ticket fairly easily, but I’d rather not.”

At her joke, however, Ruka was made to pause. Shit... damn her mouth. She hadn’t meant it that way, but given the girl’s reflexive comment... she should have known better. It just really didn’t help that she was running on three hours of sleep at best. Six would have been better. Despite what people thought, she really wasn’t a god. Flaws existed, however rare others imagined them to be.

“As many as you want,” she said instead, still waiting on that seatbelt as she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a tin and a lighter. A few moments later and a smoke was lit, vapor blown to her left and away from Ren. Though she probably would have offered anyway, it seemed suitable given her screw-up.
Sometimes I feel like a girl~... sometimes I don't~ C00l
Ah, so Ren won out after all. It was probably just as well. She wouldn't have minded the extra five feet of mental distance, but Miss Clarke wasn't really a good person anyway.

She did, in fact, have to be reminded to buckle. She rarely did, opting for ease of bailing instead. And even then, she could easily count the number of cars she'd been in in which she had actually sat on the seat. Buses were much more common, and they didn't have belts.

She buckled up, taking the excuse to shift in her seat and knock some more glitter-jizz off her legs. Maybe it would rain again. She'd love to have a chance to rinse off... one that did not involve going to a stranger's house. If she was forced, she was forced, but if they fed her first, she'd be more than happy to bolt if things went that way. Actually, she might bolt anyway, depending on her mood. Her opinion on being used varied wildly depending on how she felt at the time.

Her eyes did light up a bit at the promise of near-infinite pancakes. "You'll regret that," she promised seriously. "I'm hollow." She'd been eating ravenously for weeks now, being 'fattened up' by the group that had taken her. But she hadn't eaten since yesterday evening now, and she'd had quite the workout. Just the thought of hot food, pancakes and bacon, was making her mouth water.

Speaking of making her mouth water...

"I don't suppose I can bum a smoke along side the ride, pants, and pancakes?" she asked curiously. She wondered what rich-person cigarettes tasted like. And it had been ages. Cigarettes were one of the many bad habits she could never lose, but they were one she didn't actually want to. She'd never live long enough for cancer to be a problem, and certain people in her past had hated it. She'd been forced to quit, and the first thing she'd done upon leaving was light one up. Frankly, getting away from that bizarre beast intact felt like just as much of an accomplishment, and arguably a similar one.
She held in the laugh as Ren shifted to get her seatbelt on, in the process dirtying Ruka’s car in more glitter. Saint would be having a fit; he was, sort of, a car guy. Sort of. But maybe that was wrong too. She reminded Ruka of Saint just a bit—rough around the edges, a little unpredictable (so far), and apparently apt to mess things up for the fun of it. But Saint came from wealthy roots and just enjoyed pissing of snobby rich folks with more money than they really knew what to do with. She was curious why Ren did it, but that would be a question for later.

Still, the grin couldn’t be stopped regardless—a rare expression, that. It spread across her face just so, and she barely hid it behind her smoke as she inhaled once more, this time exhaling from her nose. It action made her looks a bit like a dragon. a pretty one, but a dragon all the same. Not that she was trying to hide it if Ren noticed at all.

“I doubt it,” she said of the pancakes. “Do you like Belgium waffles? I prefer French toast, personally.” She pulled the car out of the parking spot finally, but not before tossing the tin she kept her cigarettes in at Ren’s lap. Zippo too. Both were a bit scratched up, long overused. She wondered if Ren would try to steal either item and if she’d let her. “Have at it.”

They weren’t exactly ‘rich-person cigarettes’ though. Not expensive, but not cheap. A brand of lights called Skydancers. She liked the flavor well enough, and, that they were made by Native Americans. Not that they kill her, but unnecessary extras in the tobacco tended to destroy the taste for her.

She tapped ash out the window just before shifting gears again, picking up speed down the mostly deserted road. Wind tousled her strands, always making her feel a bit like she was flying.

"Coffee..." she murmured more to herself. "I think I rather need that right now too."
Sometimes I feel like a girl~... sometimes I don't~ C00l
"I'm not picky," Ren said, to cover for the fact that she had no idea what a Belgium waffle was and how it differentiated from other, presumably less-Belgium waffles. "Anything I can drown in syrup works for me." Hmm. Syrup. What would that cupcake-loving demon have made of syrup, she wondered? Probably a mess.

She caught the tin and the lighter and couldn't help eyeing them. It would be so tempting to take a few extra cigarettes for the road, but it was a bad idea to steal from someone at any point accept right before you were about to leave their company. A good meal by itself was worth more than even the whole pack of cigarettes was. Probably not in a technical, monetary sense, but Ren had never really picked up a tendency to think in those terms. You could live without cigarettes. You could not live without food. End of debate.

Still, she took one out and stuck it in her mouth, shielding the end and the lighter from the wind as Ruka began to drive. There was a lot of wind, more than she had expected. She'd certainly never been in a convertible before.

Once she'd lit the cigarette, she took a long drag, savoring it. She let her head fall back against the headrest, blowing the smoke straight up and watching it peel away with the force of the wind.

"Feels like flying," she muttered to herself. Her mind was on the wings from last night, how the creature who'd had its way with her had shaken the air. How she'd wondered what it would feel like if he took off with her.

She took another puff off the cigarette, and smiled. Being rich must be really fuckin' nice.

"I used to live with someone who drank coffee almost religiously," she said, mostly up to the sky at large, still watching the clouds and the edges of buildings roll past as they drove. "Every day, I got up at six to get a brew going. Never really got a taste for it myself... He drank it black, and it always just tasted so bitter to me." She took another long inhale, enjoying the tingle at the back of her head. "I always wondered what those really fancy 'coffee drinks' they sold taste like. Everyone says they're so sweet; I can't connect that in my head with that dark black bitterness."


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