[ There's dirt in her hair, clinging to her clothes, streaked across her face- dirt even covering the flying squirrel laying on her head. Kneeling beside a tombstone and a suspicious hole, Suou would nearly be stock-still if it wasn't for her coughing. But the sound eventually subsides into silence, hanging there for a few minutes, until Suou
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I can be there in a flash.
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... Do you think you could bring me a towel? I'm really dirty.
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