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... and forth to keep an eye on either entrance of the corridor he stood in.

His hands scrubbed a cylinder-shaped bowl with a brush and a heavy detergent that smelled like a lovely brain death. Slowly, the grime came off until the material looked like murky glass beneath the foam.

The coast was clear, the bowl clean. He rinsed, dried, disinfected, and set it back on the circular indent inside the alcove.

A small purse with the exact amount of crystals and marbles he needed w ...

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