He munched his popcorn steadily, periodically offering it to her, but not his Coke, as that would be too bold, a saliva exchange. Darting forward at this sound, Jack threw open the door, and beheld Quilt kneeling over Thames, who'se hands and feet were bound with cords, and about to plunge his sword into his breast. She looked down tassels of his shiny shoes with a scowl. "Because it's not like you," was her answer.
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