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Summary
Namori lifted her head from the sticky mess of last-night's ale that was sinking into her already-stinking bartop, the force of the elbow grease she was applying to the counter sinking into her already-aching shoulders. Clad in his signature shade, the Crimson Alchemist smirked from the Devil's Nest's propped door, looking every bit as ruthlessly delighted as he always seemed to be.
