I JUST WANT RICARDUS TO TAKE OFF HIS SHIRT. I MEAN SHIT. YOU THINK HE'D TAKE IT OFF WHEN HE WAS IN THE CHAINS. OR RIP IT OFF. OR WHATEVER. IT LOOKED PRETTY HOT DOWN IN THAT BRIG.
FUCK, I KNOW RIGHT. I MEAN, THAT CHEST HAIR POKING OUT OF THAT FUG SHIRT WAS ALMOST TOO MUCH. THE CLOSEST WE GOT TO TOPLESS GLORY WAS JACOB DUNKING HIM.
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...wait...
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I AM SOMEWHAT HORRIFIED OF MY ATTRACTION TO MiB.
RICHARD, FORGIVE MY INFIDELITIES. YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE FOR ME.
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THAT AND I COULD GET LUNG CANCER FROM ALL THAT SECONDHAND SMOKE.
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WITH MiB, LUNG CANCER.
WITH RICARDUS, A WHINY MAN WITH A DEAD WIFE.
BUT WHICH IS BETTER?
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I CAN FORESEE A LACK OF BAD-ASSERY COMING FROM RICARDUS IN THE COMING WEEKS. I CAN, HOWEVER, FORESEE DRIPPY LAMENTING.
ALL I SEE WITH MiB IS KILLING. I LIKE THIS.
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SRSLY RICARDUS. TUCK IT IN, OR TAKE IT OFF.
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FUCK, ISABELLA. GO AWAY. DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE?
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