#176350 - The only sounds as jill led Cassandra down the corridor was the crackle of the torches and the soft echo of their feet on the hard stone floor, forming a primitive rhythm that causes Cassandra's mind to wander to tribal images. He poured the absinthe into the champagne, took off his silver ring, the one Cassandra was now holding, and put it in the glass. The metal heels on his boots clicked in time with the rattle of the side buckles under the folded tops.
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Kenny mccormick
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His name is alrik angel