[ There is suddenly a knife at your throat, and a broad, firm body at your back. Whatever's back there reeks of sweat and blood and booze. The knife presses against the skin of your neck. Not hard enough to draw blood, not yet. ]
Hullo there. No screaming, if you please.
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Ed. Is there something I should know?
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Oh. Oh fuck me.
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Still. Tried.
[ He is almost afraid to ask but: ]
The writey one. Lucian?
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Not . . . maimed?
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Threw him overboard.
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Look. Maybe Lucius swam to shore or somewhere close. Maybe we can look for him?
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And what have you been hearing?
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Have you checked my second closet?
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I have not. Technically. No.
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