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Summary
A soft noise left him, Midas's eyes flicking up to him as he continued to take his time, fingers deftly putting it back together. Staring for a moment, eyes locked on to each other before his eyes darted down. A feeling of hunger twisting through him as he watched Midas's hands, the way he worked the gun. When he tore his eyes away, Midas had a dark smile on his face, head tilting to the side as he studied Montague.
"You seem to be awfully fixated on this." Midas's voice was soft.
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