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He glances pointedly under my arms and then to the bottom edge of my barely-concealing-'I wanted to be a washcloth'-towel.
His excessively threatening look reminds me. “Hey, you didn’t tell Gracie that you would actually... consume parts of Mandi, did you?” His eyes glow. “No. May I?” How... horrifyingly disturbing. “NO! Forget I said anything.” His mouth is open like he’s about to speak but at my words his chest deflates and he looks disappointed. “Fine.”

