Chrissy Sutherland

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I looked from the gadget-readied spear and body armor to my slender staff of plain old wood and leather duster. “My dick is bigger than your dick,” I said. “Heh,” Kincaid said. He draped a rope of garlic around his neck, then tossed another one to me, and a third to Murphy.
Blood Rites (The Dresden Files, #6)
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