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Red floods in from behind San, blackening his silhouette where he waits on the other side of the window like some stray. He's back from his latest cage fight, Wooyoung presumes: he has a crumpled bag slung over his shoulder and thick strips of cloth still wrapped around his knuckles and his ankles, the loose edges fluttering as his leg bounces erratically. His wings look so much larger, heavier, when they're lax like this, long enough to almost touch the bottom of the fire escape.
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