A slight figure in a trench coat and fedora stepped warily into the room. He looked around. Where one would expect to see a face, there was instead a white fabric with symmetrical black markings, which shifted slowly, creating different shapes that might resemble any number of things, depending on who you asked: now a pretty butterfly, now a dead
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La Fee Verte slinked closer to the applicant, a wave of anise-like fragrance drifting in her wake.
"You're far too hard on bars, sugar. It sounds like you just haven't been to the right ones. I think a drink would do you a world of good. Shall I fetch you something?"
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"No," he said gruffly.
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Seemingly from nowhere, she produced a perfectly shaped, well-polished Granny Smith apple and held it out to him.
"I have chocolate, if you'd rather," she said in a husky whisper.
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This creature was perhaps the strangest thing he had yet encountered in this place. It looked harmless, though he knew that appearances could be deceiving.
"Don't worry about face."
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"No," he said. A pause, and then, "What's pokemon?"
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