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... es the human with a placating smile. "Give us an hour."

Bob’s shoulders relax. Of course; he’s stood up to us without immediate repercussion. He must be feeling quite pleased with himself. Strong. Capable of fighting back.

My fingers curl into the plastic fabric of the camping chair.

Wait, Fenris says, nipping at my knee. It’s quickly becoming an unpleasant habit. See what Jack-Eye is thinking first.

"One hour," the insipid little human agrees, backing away. "Or I ...

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