“You’re going to drink a ridiculous amount of any sailor’s favorite medicine,” March said. “And when you’re good and drunk on that rum, I’m going to poke around in your innards and see if I can’t find the little blighter. If we’re lucky, I will, and I’ll sew you up neat and tidy.” “And if we aren’t lucky?” Jin asked. There was a pause. “More rum,” March said. “Great, gasping quantities of rum.”
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