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Summary
Occtis sank slightly in his chair. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening. Right? Oh, it was happening, as a hand settled on his shoulder. Big, warm, wearing fingerless gloves. “Oi, you- you were the one at the light!”
“I- . . . yeah, that was me.” He breathed, turning his head to slowly gaze up at the man named Kattigan.
The grin that met him was positively wolfish. “Yeah, thought I recognized you. Pretty boy. Wiccy, scoot over.”
