His face was a little flushed perhaps, and his small, brown eyes were bright. Still, something had marked the face, something had left an indelible touch. 6 Chiu Ping le, Chiu Yam Street. On the floor, underneath the sixth row desks, was an ashtray with a small black dot of blood on its blunt round corner. Blueskin might have butchered you and your brat before I'd have lifted a finger to prevent him, if it hadn't suited my purposes to do so, and he hadn't incurred my displeasure.
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