Warnings: There's a bit of violence at the end, but nothing nightmare fuel worthy.

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Chapter 2: The Harbor


"Eh, you in a bad mood today, Sora?"

"No, why?"

"Because you've been scrubbing at that spot on the table for nearly ten minutes, and the varnish is starting to come off."

"Also, your face kind of gives you away."

Sora stared down at his hand, clutched in which was a soapy rag. He had indeed been scrubbing the table for quite a while—he could feel it now in his bicep—and maybe a little bit of the varnish was starting to come off. "Oh."

Quickly, he cleared his throat and removed his hand from the table to start on another one. "I'm not in a bad mood."

Kairi and Roxas, who had addressed him, wore similar expressions of disbelief, and narrowed their eyes as he wandered off to another table to offend.

"No way," Kairi interjected, grabbing him by the shoulders and steering him towards the garbage cans. "Take out the trash. I refuse to have Cid take munny out of all of our paychecks because you channel your anger into furniture."

"I told you, I'm not in a bad—"

"Save it for someone who doesn't know you. You're so ridiculously transparent it's sad." Roxas replied, taking the rag away from him. "Come on, the trash doesn't take itself out. When you come back in, you can spill your guts."

Sora grimaced and huffed over to the trash cans, looking over his shoulder briefly with the hope of meeting the eyes of Kairi or Roxas. "I'm not in a bad mood," he said weakly, but no one caught the quiet statement, not the customers sitting at their tables, not Kairi, not Roxas.

"Fine," he muttered, gripping the monogrammed vessel, replacing the plastic before taking the load outside. Maybe he was just a touch on the anxious side that morning, but he didn't think it was bad enough that it showed, or worse, affected his work performance. If anything, it should have fueled him to work harder, and neither Kairi nor Roxas could complain if he was simply being more effective. He did have a self admittedly bad poker face though, so he supposed it shouldn't have been a surprise that his friends had picked up on it.

He headed outside to the dumpster and felt the cool morning breeze on his face. It smelled sweet and bitter outside, the rich and dark scent of coffee permeating the air. It was for this and many reasons he was glad that he worked at a coffee shop, The Filter, and not at one of the local diners many of the other people with his same ability set ended up. The air behind the building always smelled pleasant.

Sora took a few deep breaths to calm himself, and told himself that he needed to get his act together if he was going to do his job correctly, furthermore if he wanted to keep Kairi, Roxas, and more importantly Cid off his back. The last thing he needed was to be sent home early for a poor attitude, and then he would have even more to add to his long—and growing—list of complaints about Riku.

With another breath for good measure, he headed back into The Filter and tried to plaster some semblance of neutrality on his face. It wasn't that he didn't mind voicing his frustration—this time regarding a certain silver-haired house crasher—but he preferred not to do it at work, furthermore at the cost of Roxas and Kairi succeeding at cracking him.

The two in question were behind the counter: Kairi counting pastries, Roxas playing with a stack of receipts. He peered behind his shoulder and grinned in a way that kind of made Sora sick to his stomach, and waggled his eyebrows.

"Welcome back. Feel better?"

"What? No."

"Perfect. Then that means there's still a good story waiting to be told."

Sora rolled his eyes. "In case you haven't noticed, we've got a full house. We don't have time for you to pry into my personal life."

Roxas shrugged. "Look over there," he pointed to the back of the store. "Those groups of people are so engrossed in their morning paper, they wouldn't notice if the building caught on fire, much less one of us neglecting to refill their cups of coffee." He pointed to another pod of people closer to the counter. "These three people are cramming for a class, and those people in the back are on their laptops. The place is practically running itself."

Kairi looked up from the glass display case. "Scones and cookies are all accounted for. There's officially nothing for us to do." She leaned across the counter. "Who wronged you today?"

"What makes you think I was wronged in some way?" Sora crossed his arms, looking moderately offended. "Why can't I just be in a bad mood?"

"Because you're Sora." They said in unison, and it was at this point that Sora realized that he had lost. He sighed.

"Come on, we're your friends," Kairi said with a small smile on her face. "We tease, but we really want to help you."

"Speak for yourself," Roxas grinned. "I just like a good story, preferably with the potential for violence."

"Right, well, with the exclusion of Roxas."

"It's not really a big deal. It's not even worth talking about—"

"If that's the case, then you can go ahead and stop stalling and tell us already." Roxas looked at him pointedly. "We have a limited amount of time before Cid shows up, and I refuse to get in trouble without a good story to show for it."

Kairi looked at Roxas with scorn, but smiled weakly at Sora. "Well, it might be good for you?"

"Ugh, fine." He joined them behind the counter, and shook his head. "Like I said, it's not really that big of a deal. Riku's just making me mad again."

Roxas looked personally offended. "Riku? Are you serious? He's always makes everyone mad. This isn't news, this is life!"

"Eh, maybe mad isn't the right word."

"Well what is the right word?"

"I don't know!" Sora groaned. "Last night he crashed at my house at an unreasonable hour, because yet again, he just had to prove he was a tough guy down at the harbor. Do you know how many frozen foods I have left? Do you have any idea?"

"…Not many?"

"That's right, not many. What kind of idiot goes off, gets into a brawl, and then drags himself into my apartment, and expects me to patch him up?"

"…Riku?"

"That's right, Riku."

"Well, to be fair," Roxas pointed out. "You did open your door. If you were that mad about what sounds like an awesome night, then you'd have gone back to sleep. Then, the next morning when he's still on your doorstep, tell him that he'd better take you with him to the harbor next time, because it's not fair for one person to have so much fun by themselves."

"…What are you talking about?"

"You're worried," Kairi said warmly, making Roxas roll his eyes. "Is that what you mean?"

"Please, Kairi." Roxas said matter-of-fact. "Men do not worry. We have two emotions: anger and rage. We are never happy, we are never sad, we are only less angry." Roxas looked at Sora. "Are you going to punch him?"

"No, I'm not going to punch him. Kairi's right…sort of."

She grinned. "What's he up to now? Still fighting down at the harbor?"

"Of course he is," Roxas interjected. "He gets to hang out down at the docks, lift a couple of boxes, sit around for a few hours, and pick fights with people for fun, and he still makes more munny than us. I would understand if you were a little jealous."

"No one mentioned anyone being jealous, Roxas."

"Oh really? My mistake."

"Anyway," Kairi continued. "What did he do to you?"

"Nothing really. At least, nothing out of the ordinary. It just frustrates me that he continues getting into trouble. One of these days it's going to come back tenfold, and he won't be able to get out of it by punching people."

"That's where you're wrong," Roxas said before Kairi could interject. "There are actually very few conflicts in this world that can't be solved with a few punches to the jaw. Someone stole your property? Punch them in the teeth. Someone late to pick you up? Knock them in the chin. More complex problems like the world peace might require a good slug in the stomach, but you get the theme I'm going with here."

Kairi groaned. "You can stop now. Somehow you don't strike me as a credible source for conflict resolution."

"I'm serious! There's no need to complicate things with words and feelings and stuff. A fist to the face is pretty hard to misinterpret. It says 'stop being an idiot' much more precisely than any words could ever do."

"Okay, you're done.

"What? Am I wrong?"

"Guys, it's okay." Sora said with a sigh, already regretting bringing up the subject. The last thing he needed was Kairi and Roxas arguing over something he didn't want to talk about in the first place. Sure, he knew that Riku often did things that were probably contrary to what should be considered appropriate, self-constructive behavior, but he wasn't evil person, and probably hadn't earned himself the need to be slugged other than from the actual brawls down at the harbor. He was a good person, and was an upstanding citizen for the most part, Sora supposed.

And as much as he hated to admit it, Roxas had also been right: no amount of talking or complaining would get him to stop. Riku was going to do whatever it was that he wanted to—especially if he was able to do so while making munny—and a punch to the face was probably the only way to get through to him that all of this fighting nonsense was just a bad idea.

Then again, Riku had been punched in the face numerous times—and Sora would know. He had a freezer void of frozen breakfast and snacks to prove it—and the actions only seemed to encourage him.

"I'm not going to worry about it anymore," he said finally, reaching for another soapy rag. "It's none of my business."

"Pfft, you're lying. Kairi and I both know you're going to worry about it until it stops, right Kairi?"

"That's not the point," Kairi said rubbing her eyes. "The point is that Sora is trying to be a good friend. Why don't you just tell him how you feel?"

"Don't do that. That'll make you look like a clingy girlfriend. Just punch him in the fa—"

"Will you cut it out? Sora, don't listen to Roxas. Just talk to him. Besides, it's not really a normal hobby anyway. Maybe there's something bothering him?"

Sora nodded. "I guess so."

Roxas just snorted. "This is a heck of a long time to be bothered about something. I told you, guys are simple creatures. We have an issue, we deal with it, and the most effective way to do so is to—"

"Roxas, I'm about to punch you in the face. For the love of all things reasonable, please stop talking." Kairi sent him a glare that immediately halted any further vocal action.

"Eh, anyway," Sora coughed. "It's fine, really. I'm just going to move on and hope for the best."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, let's get back to work." He turned, but immediately regretted the decision. The back door from the kitchen opened, and he was greeted with a shock of blond hair, a frown, and a toothpick bobbing between a pair of lips turned distinctly downward.

Roxas slapped his hand to his forehead, and Kairi looked as though her heart may have stopped for a moment.

"What are you three doing?" Cid grunted, arms akimbo and back arched. "The answer had better be 'working,' or it looks like I'm going to have three positions open."

"We were just about to start sanitizing the counter after we restocked the pastries," Kairi said with a nervous smile.

"Yeah," Roxas chimed in. "All the scones and whatever are eh, scone-like, so…yeah. Sanitizing."

Cid didn't look pleased. "That's how I know you're lying. Roxas, you're never anywhere near the counter unless you're flapping your lips or hiding from the customers."

"We're sorry, Cid." Sora blurted out.

"I don't want to hear your apologies. Just get to work. Crazy little varmints…"

"Yes sir!"

Roxas sent both Sora and Kairi a sheepish grin before heading off to find a dust pan and broom, while Kairi and Sora reached for their soapy rags. Sora himself was still reeling from the possibility of getting fired—though all three of them knew Cid was too lazy to go through the trouble of hiring and training three more staff members—but was silently glad. The conversation had ended, and at least he could force himself to think about working instead of how angry Riku made him, or how his poor decisions these days were just going to land him in a heap of trouble that Sora wasn't sure he would have the patience to bail him out of.

Kairi elbowed him gently as she wiped a section of the counter, and smiled. "Don't listen to Roxas," she whispered. "Just talk to him."

"Huh? Oh. Right."

"I mean it."

"Yes Kairi."

"Hey, stop talking over there," Roxas hissed from across the room. "I still need this job!"


The sun had just disappeared behind the horizon, Riku noticed as he pulled on his boots, mindful of his fingers, and laced them up tightly. Tonight, like all nights during the week, would yield unexpected surprises locked up in the crates. The last time that he had gone out wearing less durable shoes, he ended up walking home with soggy feet, and shoes that smelled a lot like something one would find at the waste site of a chemical plant. He pulled the legs of his jeans over his boots, and shoved a pair of equally durable gloves in his back pocket.

Riku was pleased this evening. After having rested so well at Sora's apartment that morning, furthermore getting breakfast out of the deal, he felt he would be able to take on a reasonable amount of work this shift. If that weren't enough, he spent the day at his own house replenishing his sleep, taking time to scrub some of the stains out of his work clothes, and sleeping even more. He wasn't an especially lazy person, and rather enjoyed having more productive days, but sometimes he couldn't resist doing close to nothing.

Refreshed, and ready to get to work, he checked his pockets one more time to make sure he had brought both gloves, then he headed out the door and locked it tightly behind him.

A ritual he engaged in prior to leaving was a quick survey around the outside of his house. He wasn't scared exactly, but given his frequent skirmishes down at the harbor, it wouldn't be unlikely to anticipate someone being impatient enough to start confrontation outside of the sanctity of the ships. It had yet to happen, but one could never be too careful.

Peeking around the corners of his apartment, and the stairwell below him, he found nothing, and more importantly no one. Satisfied, he jogged down the stairs and onto the street.

As he headed down the street toward the harbor, he could smell the saltiness of the sea. The air was cool and fresh, the night was still, and silent. It was perfect. He was even pleased to find that he wasn't even sore. Well, maybe his fingers were, and there was a bit of residual pain in his shoulder, but otherwise he was as fit as could be. He would have to hand it to whoever crafted Sora's couch, Riku's own bed, and all the other surfaces he had crashed onto that day. He supposed he could get by without actually having to thank the furniture, but Sora would be a different problem.

He grimaced, as he remembered the debt he was accruing. If he knew Sora well—and he did—news of his unexpected house crashing had probably already made it to Kairi and Roxas, and probably a handful of other people. Sora had a very entertaining way of handling his anger, and it usually involved a lot of talking. Luckily he was easy enough to assuage.

Silently thankful of this, he supposed he would call Sora up the following afternoon grovel out some kind of apology, buy him food, and then hope that he wouldn't have to end up at his house again for at least another couple of weeks. He hoped that would be enough this time…

Rounding a corner, he was greeted with a more intense scent of the sea, and the unpleasant odor of chum.

He had reached the harbor.

It was dark out, but there were a few lights peppered around the docks to prevent unfortunate accidents—e.g. handlers like himself falling into the ocean, and cheap managers having to pay exuberant amounts of munny to cover it up. The lights had the unwanted side effect of garnering the attention of half a million moths, mosquitoes and other flying nuisances. In conjunction with the rotting fish innards clinging to the sides of some of the boats, he was left a somewhat unpleasant host of guests during the evening hauls.

Riku didn't mind, though. He liked all of it; the smell, the silence, the tightness in his muscles after a rough haul, and the promise of a little action before the night was over. It was worth the bugs, and it was worth the smell.

He pulled on his gloves and waved to a few of his "coworkers" as well as his manager hanging off on the other side, face deep in the newspaper, before heading to his section of the harbor.

The boats that came in during this time of the night were usually small, and could be handled without much help outside of Riku himself and the boat's own crew members. These visits were designed to be quick, discreet, and hassle free. Daytime shifts required more interaction with crew members, customers wandering about the harbor determined to get the freshest of the fresh fish coming in, and little children scampering around with balloons and toys as they wandered around without their parents. Riku would take the bugs and dubious atmosphere over that nonsense any day.

Wrinkling his nose he peered out into the open sea, hunting for a light, a sound, anything to indicate an incoming vessel. On cue, a boat rolled in on a bed of dark waves and thick evening fog. Almost before it was even close enough, a rope was thrown in his direction. Catching it before it smacked him in the face, he set to securing it to the dock, then waited for the others to follow.

The boat stopped a few inches from the dock, and four men silently filed out, helping to secure ropes and the slabs of wood used to slide the boxes out of the ship. It wasn't well decorated process, but it was efficient. Before Riku had even secured the other ropes down, the men were already pushing the cargo to the edge of the ramp and sliding it down.

He shuffled to the box as it neared the end of the incline and loaded it onto a nearby packing dolly. He had no idea what was inside. All he knew was that it was heavy, and smelled like something had died in it. He let a breath out from his mouth and continued. He wasn't paid to ask questions.

The next few boxes slid down the ramp in a similar fashion, and he stacked them on the dolly. As it filled, a new one replaced it by someone behind him, and the process continued again. The boxes began to vary in scent and weight. Riku wrinkled his nose at the appropriate times, but continued with loading as if the weight of the boxes was nonexistent, and the contents were dozens of rose petals.

The boat was quickly unloaded, and as soon as the ramp had cleared, Riku found himself with a new dolly parked next to him, this time with boxes marked for export. He rubbed his hands together to get the feeling back into his fingers—then decided that he preferred it when he couldn't feel them—and proceeded to go through the process in reverse.

From the rare times he bothered to be curious as to the contents of the crates, he found everything from animal parts, to clothing, to metal mechanical parts he could only assume went to some kind of automotives. This time the contents were a bit more ambiguous, but he could tell that they were the latter automotive pieces. He wondered what kind of company dealt with things that were both metal and clearly once living, but he decided against letting his mind wander too far. Those who were too curious always ended up in trouble.

The export lasted about as long as he expected, and after a few hours of heavy lifting and sweating, the small boat was released from the dock and was speeding off into the inky blackness of the sea.

Riku wiped his forehead with the back of his still gloved hand, his hair matting to the back of his neck and forehead. He decided he was in need of a small break before the next ship came in. Looking around for a crate that wasn't marked for export or import, he wandered through one of the smaller storage ware houses and was happy to find an overturned box of…something, and sat down on it to rest up.

It was quiet inside; grease and saltiness permeated the air. It was a pleasant relief from the flying moths and dock slathered in fish chum, but then again areas that were as quiet as this were often riddled with things more troublesome than how the appeared.

He leaned back onto another crate and closed his eyes, alone, quiet, and content. His muscles were starting to sing sweetly of exertion and overuse, but he liked the feeling. Here he didn't have to think, didn't have to be. He could forget the problems of home, the world, and anything else that so cared to keep him from being completely and utterly at ease.

And then, as soon as he settled into perfect mental blankness, he heard the first sound of that trouble that always seemed to follow him whenever he took a break in the warehouse.

"Hey, that's that kid."

Riku overheard his obvious mention from somewhere off in the back beyond his sight. Being the only individual who worked at the harbor under the age of thirty five was both helpful and unfortunate for a variety of reasons, but in this case he was pleased that he would at least have the opportunity to be forewarned if anything should come of this conversation. He tilted his head back and leaned against the crate behind him, listening in carefully and trying his hardest to avoid detection.

"What are you talking about?"

"That kid, from a couple of days ago. The one who gave me that shiner then walked away like he owed it to me, y'know?"

Riku was pretty sure he could guess where this was going to go after that last line. He flexed his fingers. It was painful, but he was confident he might be able to do a little bit of damage, even if his fingers did protest. He had plenty of ice at home, and his couch proved to be really good with getting the kinks out of his back…

"I really have no idea what you're talking about."

"It's that kid, I'm not even making this up." There was a rustling of some clothing, and then footsteps.

Riku rolled his eyes. He was kind of hoping that it would be a little later when the festivities began, since he did have more ships to unload, and he didn't really fancy being bruised up while he worked, but he supposed some things couldn't be helped.

The footsteps neared, and Riku was now certain that he was going to be confronted. He kept at ease on the crate, and waited.

A built looking brunet man who stood a little taller than Riku, and his slightly thinner, blond companion stopped immediately in front of him, the buffer of the two standing with his hand on his hip and a scowl on his face. Riku supposed that this must have been the person he had apparently wronged at some point, though he had to admit that the faces of those people were starting to run together.

"You need something?" It was really more of a formality. Rarely did anyone approach anyone so abruptly in the warehouses unless they wanted a fight or munny, and given that Riku could really only provide the former at the current moment, his expectations for a peaceful discussion were pretty much nonexistent.

"Yeah I need something, you little snot," The brunet said. "You remember me, kid?"

"Eh, can't say that I do."

"Listen to him, Seifer," he said to his blond friend, jabbing a thumb in Riku's direction a bit theatrically.

The man next to him rolled his eyes. "Is there some reason we're doing this? I have things to do, and the last thing we need is to—"

"I'm aware of that. The issue is that this kid over here was the one who interrupted our transaction the last time and sent me home with a busted eye."

Riku had only a vague recollection of who this individual was, but given that he rarely started fights—merely finished them—he knew that any further listening would produce only a vague outline of the truth.

The blond man now identified as Seifer rolled his eyes and shrugged. "Fine. Let's rough him up a little bit and get on our way, if you're sure this is the guy." He looked up at Riku, a scar-lined eye looking impatient and disinterested. "Did you give Rai a shiner?"

Rai looked completely insulted and dumbfounded.

Riku shrugged. "I can honestly tell you I don't remember, but probably."

"That sounds fair."

"I hate you both, y'know?"

"Okay then." Seifer reached up to yank him off of the crate by his ankle, but Riku jumped down and landed a few feet away. Two people at once wasn't unheard of, but it was a rare treat. He only hoped that Rai had enough frustration built up, and that Seifer had enough fight in him to make all of this worthwhile.

Rai was the first to charge him, which was probably why he had ended up with the black eye in the first place. He yelled as he ran forward, as though closing the distance between them was some massive feat, but Riku side stepped and jabbed his elbow in the side of his face. Rai crashed off to the side and hit the floor.

Seifer shook his head and cracked his neck. "Huh, Rai was right. You are a little snot." He also charged forward, but with far less enthusiasm than Rai did and swung at his gut. Riku managed to maneuver himself around the fist, but another one came almost immediately afterward and clipped him in the jaw.

Both of them pulled apart, and Rai picked himself off of the floor.

He couldn't help the small smile that spread across his face. This was going to be fun.

Rai charged him from behind, and Riku gladly let himself be pushed forward towards Seifer's waiting fists. As soon as Seifer swung though, he loosened himself from Rai's grip, and his fist connected with Rai's face instead. Seifer looked more inconvenienced than upset that he possibly caused his companion his second black eye, but the look was only brief as he was at it again.

Rai tried for Riku's jaw this time, but Riku grabbed his fist, wrapped it behind his back and shoved him forward. His face connected with concrete, and Riku couldn't stop himself from landing a kick or two to his ribcage to ensure that he would stay down, at least until he had a good start on Seifer.

Seifer appeared to be the better fighter, and for this, Riku was interested. Since Rai hadn't provided a particularly memorable fight, he was hopeful that Seifer would be able to, even though he appeared to be smaller and leaner. He wondered what their dynamic must be like…

Seifer swung, but Riku dodged and landed a punch to Seifer's stomach. He slid back a little winded, but the punch didn't seem to slow him down. He cracked his neck and swung a few times at Riku's face and abdomen, connecting a fist to Riku's side. There was a tiny flash of pain that quickly bloomed into a large flash of pain, and Riku suspected that he may have cracked a rib.

The thought didn't bother him though, and the grin that spread across his face indicated why he enjoyed working at the harbor so much.

"Hey," Rai wheezed from the floor, clutching his own chest as he struggled to stand up. "Seifer just broke your rib and you're smiling? What is wrong with you?"

Riku chose to ignore him and charged Seifer, this time knocking Seifer in the jaw and once in the stomach. His head bobbed downward and a thin trickle of blood ran down his lip and stained his shirt.

This action seemed to produce the most emotion in Seifer, for his eyes flashed red, and he scowled in such a way that would have left him scared, had be not been anticipating this all night.

"I'll admit, I underestimated you when we started this, but no one ever, ever beats me in a fight, do you hear me kid?"

Riku struggled with this one, since he was pretty sure that Seifer and he were too close in age for him to be calling Riku kid and Riku wasn't really in the business of losing fights either.

He told him as much.

Seifer got angry.

Seifer charged.

Riku was pleased.

As he ran forward, much like Rai had in the beginning, Riku already knew that he had won. Once anger became motivation for fighting, it was pretty easy to lose. Riku fought for the fun of it and just general boredom. Seifer was now fighting because Riku had bruised his ego…and his jaw. It was all lining up too perfectly.

As expected, Riku only had to land a few more punches for Seifer to fall, and Rai to come crawling over to him to help him. Riku himself was a little winded, and maybe that cracked rib would become an issue later when the next shipment came in, but for the most part he was gleeful. It was a reasonably good fight, and he had proven to himself, and eventually that nag Sora that he was more than capable of handling himself.

Rai struggled to help Seifer to his feet, and he came to with a huff and a death glare. Riku didn't even try to hide his smugness.

"Let's get out of here," Rai whispered frantically. "This guy's crazy, y'know?"

"Shut up!" Seifer hissed back. He pointed at Riku. "This isn't over, do you hear me? I don't lose!"

"I'll go ahead and keep the obvious statement to myself, then."

"You!" he yelled. "You have no idea who you're dealing with, kid. You have no idea!"

"Are you going to tell me or…"

"Shut up!" Seifer bellowed, and Rai was having difficulty keeping him upright since he was fidgeting so much. "We work for one of the most powerful people known to man. You think you can just walk home after a little tussle in the harbor, but let me tell you, you'd better sleep with one eye open for the rest of your life, because—"

A horn blew in the distance, signaling the arrival of another ship. Riku couldn't be sure it was for him, but it wasn't worth waiting around for someone to come yelling for him and risk getting fired.

Or risk missing out on this for days to come.

"Look, I appreciate your words. I really do, but I have to go. Revenge, powerful people, I get it." He offered a wave, and dashed off, his ribs and muscles protesting all the way.

Rai's expression was a combination of hurt and confusion, but Seifer wore an expression of pure rage.

"Eh, you okay Seifer? The kid's crazy, y'know?"

"Yeah, I know," he wheezed. "But he has no idea how crazy crazy can get. I don't like his attitude. I'm going to make sure we wipe that smirk off his face."

"How are we going to do that?"

"We're going to start by you shutting up, and us getting back to what we were here doing in the first place."

"But Seifer—"

"What did I just say?"

"Yes sir."


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