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6/29/2025, 5:30:24 AM
>Right, just a tick now… steady fingers... ha! She sings for me already. That daft lardy guard thinks a wooden cell’ll hold a lad like me. Hells, I’ve pinched purses in pitch-black taverns while singing bawdy limericks with a dagger in my teeth. This cell smells of damp straw and regret, but I’ll slip past that snoring oaf and be gone into the moonlit chaos before he finishes scratching his belly. Locks were made to be picked, and I was born to dance through ’em like a breeze.
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