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Summary
“Al-Haitham, it’s Cyno, open the door.”
Through the stained glass window, he can vaguely make out the small stature and pointed hood of Cyno—but there stood another silhouette beside him, similarly shaped.
When he opens the door, Cyno looks uncharacteristically tense. Barely upright beside him—practically hanging off his shoulder—is a very sickly Tighnari.
Maybe he should have finished his coffee first.