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Summary
"Say it again!" Roy demanded. "Fucking say it again! It'll be music to my fucking ears! Say it—"
Pollock did like Roy said, with a cruel grin, like he as the pissed gay-basher had the upper hand. Roy burst into motion—stepping forward and widening his stance and swinging his arm up and across.
Then there was blood. A lot—a lot—of blood. Jamie jolted, gripping the tablecloth tight.
