kaz ruby 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

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“The less time I have to spend in Walsh’s presence the better.” The object of his ire sat outside on a bench, nursing a coffee of his own. The mere mention of Thomas sent a frothy wave of mortification tumbling through her. She’d kissed him. She’d kissed him, and he’d rejected her.
kaz ruby 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅
Oh Vivi
I Am Made of Death
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