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Summary
"Jesus, Buckaroo, what’d you do? Run through the whole lot?” Chim is saying when Eddie makes it inside.
“There aren’t that many needles,” Buck grumbles, his voice now audibly congested. Because of course he’s allergic to the tree. How Eddie didn’t notice during the forty-five minutes they spent in the tree lot is nothing short of supernatural, given the typical amount of attention he extends to Buck and his nasal passages.
OR
Buck is allergic, and Eddie suffers.
