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Summary
“Tord.”
“…”
They look down at the party.
Somewhere by the round tables clothed in red, Tord converses with a few foreign emissaries. He carries along, unhearing of names being called.
...Of course he would, Tom and Matt are at least thirty feet off the ground floor. For fuck’s sake, there’s a mariachi band on both the east and west side of the grand hall.
Series
- Part 14 of sometimes i just hate to love you