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Summary
"What happened?" Euijoo asks, voice caught somewhere between a rasp and whisper.
Fuma fights a grimace. He coughs on the inhale, a sour puff of smoke blowing out around him, and even through the charcoal filter, it burns. Not the right way. Not the way it should.
"I wish you wouldn’t ask questions you already know the answer to."
or
Fuma and Euijoo compartmentalize.
