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Summary
“You’re a… s-sadist?”
“Cards on the table,” said Kristoph.
Phoenix took a deep breath. “So, you’re into… like, black eyes. Cigarette burns. Whips and chains and… stuff.”
“Oh, Phoenix. Nothing like that,” Kristoph’s voice was low and musical, and Phoenix couldn’t tell if he was making fun of him or not. “You should know me well enough to know I prefer things to be… clean.”