Well-behaved. Fuck that noise. An image sprung briefly to mind -- Tess, wandering around in the old kitchen, pre-morning caffeine, in flannel pants and a T-shirt reading "Well-behaved women seldom make history" in letters that were slowly peeling off. He'd offered her coffee and she'd about taken his head off. Some sort of detox crap about
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Marcus made his way down the hall, adjusting his cape one last time as he set out.
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