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Summary
“Oh, come on, Bracken. Have some fun.” The Blackwood goads him. “Don’t be such a prissy little cunt.”
“Davos,” Aeron sighs, finally fed up. He presses his palms upon the table, shaking his head. “Why are you even talking to me if you think I’m a cunt.”
Or: Aeron gets called a few names, but it's okay because Davos thinks he's pretty.
