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Summary
If you asked her, Amelia Watson was fine.
The cheap can of beer tumbled against her table. Her head was pounding with the world's greatest headache. The concoction high wasn't helping either.
Definitely fine in her opinion. In fact, she wasn't drunk enough. The cold hiss of either the fourth or fortieth beer echoed in the rum. The old CRT monitor crackled with faint static, reflecting back and empty office.
Two dead blue eyes stared back at her.Series
- Part 8 of Hololive Fics
