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Summary
“What do you want, Gojo?” He asks tiredly, turning to place the empty glass on the overrun coffee table. A folder slides off to splay on the fur carpet. Nanami doesn’t care to pick it up.
A small, humorless laugh escapes him, prompting Nanami to glance back at where he stood. Gojo spreads his arms self-deprecatingly.
“To feel something, perhaps.”