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What’ll it be?” “Coriander, sir.” He shoots a pleading glance at Brighid, but she looks amused, and I laugh at him. “How about Fuckstick? Aye, that’ll do.” He doesn’t have a ward against me calling him the wrong name. I know it makes me a fecking arsehole, but he’s a far sight more smug than I can stand.
Scourged (The Iron Druid Chronicles, #10)
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