PREVIEW
... a road roller through them,” John wheezed, trying his darndest to keep his lungs from being rejected by the rest of his body.
“Stop smoking then, weakling,” Magnus mocked him. His stern tone made it sound harsher than it was likely meant to be. “And don’t draw it into your lungs. That isn’t a cigarette, that’s an 1842 Geralson.”
Over the past two hours of engaged discussion and whisky-sipping, John had ended up ordering a cigar himself. It was a truly decadent move, a waste of mo ...
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