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... was already up — instinctive, firm, but polite enough not to leave a bruise — covering her mouth.
"Please," I whispered, eyes locked on hers, "just... quiet."
She froze. Her light brown eyes, flecked with hints of gold, stared at me not in panic, but calculation. She was sizing me up, trying to decide if I was dangerous or just some idiot who got lost on the way to the latrine. When I felt her body relax — just a notch — I loosened my grip and let her breathe.
"You're in ...
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