[ZZZZZZZZT. The communicator vibrates off the table upon being touched, its owner having recoiled from being shocked. Bakura leans over and picks it up, placing it upright and back to where it rested before. A small switchblade occupies his other hand. As predicted, a light shower drizzles outside, seen through the window and heard through the
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... Hello?
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[another pause.]
Do you miss them too, Mr. Russia?
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Though it might be better if they forget this place.
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