Cass

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Locke toyed with one of the ends of his false moustache as he watched the waiter go, and then he turned around and lost himself in the crowds. The sun was pouring down light and heat with its usual intensity, and Locke was sweating hard inside his fine new clothes, but for a few moments he let a satisfied smirk creep onto his face.
Cass
Locke Lamora you utter fucking genius
The Lies of Locke Lamora (Gentleman Bastard, #1)
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