Looking at you with those cold, blue eyes, he smirks, of course he smirks We're stuck, how ironic. But don't get any ideas; I'm only going to be "nice" to get out. he glances around, frowns What's with all these books, no door, just a table, chairs, books... backpacks... hmm.... he flips through a book about CFS/ME and 'Spoon Theory'
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