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Summary
“Yeah, I’ll swear on it."
The clouds hang low and purple over the stars, scraping the hills behind them. Somewhere in the distance, a siren goes off. Michael guesses the cops found a new target. He guesses they’re free now.
He lights another cigarette and doesn’t even mind when Trevor throws a foot over his ankle.
Fucking free.
or: two men who made their living on lies pinky promise each other honesty.