She would then partially recall the items that she had heard about him, presenting each at the angle that was the most likely to inflict pain. "Oh, Rollo, there are so many things I don't know! But you love me, don't you?" Rollo wagged his stump violently and tried to lick her face. Such a time that it takes for them to go. She used his own gun against him, a method that was occasionally cleaner than slitting throats when she got it right. ‘What in Hades d’ye mean, thanks to me? Want to blame anyone, blame that rapscallion who calls himself your father. Perhaps that was the reason why she enjoyed preparing suppers at the Becks. She drank and drank until his body was a lifeless husk, as light as a mannequin, virtually hollow of all but the fluid in his bones. Parbleu, but she was a fool.
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