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Summary
Izzy’s eyes flutter shut with a low whine. The boot connects with his chin again, widening the small cut just below his lip. This time, he tastes the blood.
“Bleeding this much after two kicks? On my boots, no less.” Blackbeard glances down at the sparse droplets of blood on the floor between them. “And the deck. Look at this mess.” He clicks his tongue, and leans down to the man kneeling in front of him.
