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Summary
He was brilliant, and cagey, and saw through your ruse instantly, which was startling and distressing in equal measures. But he never called you on your bluff (as he smiled at you over your breakfast, his face greasy with oil, not quite a leer but approaching it). Instead, he twisted it around on you-- he was vapid, and shallow, and violent, and lacked any shred of self-awareness.
You loathed him because he was you.
