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Double Skinny Mocha Chai Latte With A Single Whip; [Catseye, Robert Drake, Open?]
Topic Started: Jul 21 2014, 02:00 AM (415 Views)
Chevron
Unregistered

Monday, July 21st, 2014
Starbucks in Midtown


Her life had turned into the stuff of a Saturday Morning Cartoon show, complete with costumes, explosions, and violence.

A month and change ago she'd sat shattered to pieces in the middle of a firefight in which desert-born rebels tried to attack, kidnap, and overthrow one of her superiors in the Hellfire Club. She'd killed two men that day, in self defense of course, but still.

Farrah worried for the fact that she didn't feel any real remorse.

And now? Here she was, ready to go shopping with a fellow pawn in the club, from across the courts. Her name was Sharon, and she was very sweet. Her mutation, it was strange, but what weight did a word like strange carry for a woman like Farrah Collins? For a mutant?

She entered her order alongside Catseye, sighing wistfully at the misspelling of her name. She didn't gather strange looks like she had a few years ago, the general public eye being so questioning to people like her, but instead now it was other little things, the lack of a second R in her name, craning necks here and there. She didn't count herself as overly bodacious, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't have the vanity to at least think herself attractive, still, getting thirsty stares instead of judgemental ones was awkward in its own way.

"Can you believe..." She said to Catseye as she took her seat, pushing her sunglasses up to rest on the bump of her hair, "that barrista wrote his phone number on my cup." She scooted her chair in, offering a cursory look back at the man, whose sly nod and greasy smile evoked from her a fake grin and placating nod. "He looks sixteen."

She shook her head, taking a sip before eyeing her phone. "Today's been so calm and quiet, I almost don't want to work the floor tonight."
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Catseye
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Glamour Puss
To be honest, Sharon wasn’t all that big on shopping. While she liked to browse, actually finding clothes tended to be a bit of a chore, what with having a tail. But she certainly liked spending time with others, and recently she’d been making more friends in the Court. First Tarot, now Farrah. It was nice, having friends, especially with those she worked with. It was hard not to stick out, her lavender hair curled loosely over her shoulders, purple eyes vibrant as she grinned at the workers in the coffee shop. Like any good cat, she reveled in the attention as eyes swept over her unusual coloring, more often than not pausing to take in the sight of the long, lavender furred tail that was curled around her waist, out of the way. Farrah seemed a bit less comfortable with the attention, and after entering her order – iced hazelnut macchiato – the feline woman perched on the chair with a grin.

“Of course I can believe it. You smiling at him probably just made his week, and he’s going to boast to his friends how you hit on him.” The purple haired woman grinned brightly, glancing over at the baristas working, her amethyst gaze amused. “Take it as a compliment, and wave at the poor kid when we leave. It’ll make him feel special.” Lounging back in the chair, she shifted, tail sliding out around her and twitching a bit. Sipping her iced coffee, she nodded at Chevron’s comment, fingers dancing across the tip of her tail absently as she looked out a window, watching people walk by.

“Yeah. It’s nice to have a peaceful, relaxing day. Sometimes the floor simply gets overwhelmingly…Loud.” Probably moreso to Sharon’s sensitive hearing, and she inhaled, eyes closing momentarily to enjoy the sharp, sweet smell of coffee and flavors. The smooth scent easily outweighed the smell of human bodies pressed together, a nice change from the club, where the air was weighted with more perfume and sweat than true air. She could still smell the city outside, and of course it was impossible for her to fully ignore the sounds of the city, between cars and electronics and people talking. But it was nice, relaxing in a cushioned chair in a coffee shop like a normal person. Or as normal as she could be, with lavender hair and a tail.
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Bobby Drake
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"...and you won't believe what she said to me next! No, no, she tried to blame it all on me! Can you believe it? Like I stole her boyfriend or something! Look, I don't know what happened to Josh's pants but I had NOTHING to do with it!"

Bobby knew it was a private conversation, but if she wanted to keep this on the down-low, she really shouldn't have picked a line in Starbucks to discuss that crazy party last night. It was kind of funny, though, listening to the girl in front of him go on and on about Josh and his lack of pantaloons. Chuckling quietly at some of the juicer tidbits that the girl spat out, he waited his turn patiently, needing a bit of a pick-me-up before heading back to Worthington Tower. X-Factor stuff had kept him up and out the previous night, and he was still on the road to recovery.

Stifling a yawn, he took some time and glanced around the shop. Fairly crowded, he figured, and not an empty table. He hadn't planned on staying anyway. Soon as he got his drink, he was gone. Of course, that might not happen until some point in the next millennium because the next person in line just happened to be the chatty chick who was apparently too absorbed in her conversation to notice the rest of the world was moving on without her.

"Oy," he said, tapping the girl on the shoulder. "You're up."

She whipped around and looked at him like he had two heads. Having seen people with worse looks on their faces in his time, he wasn't even fazed by her expression. Instead, he simply motioned her on, rolling his eyes as she turned to the barrista, rattling out her order like a machine gun. Iceman had to credit whoever trained the guy, because he took the order like a pro, and it was his turn in short order.

Stepping forward, he ordered his drink (which was refreshingly plain compared to the previous one) and stepped aside to wait his turn. Another look around the shop, and he saw something that gave him pause. Two people of the female persuasion. That was nothing spectacular in and of itself, but one of them had extremely purple hair. It was eye catching, to say the least. The other, well, she was just out and out gorgeous.

For a second, he thought about throwing on the old Drake charm and swaggering on up to them to get the lay of the land, but something held him back. How long had it been since Hartley? About four months now. Four months since he'd lost her again. That was a roadblock he hadn't quite overcome just yet.

The sound his name brought him back to reality. With thanks both verbal and monetary, Bobby took hold of his drink and was heading toward the door when he stopped himself. How long was he going to let her ghost haunt him? She was gone, there was no changing it. If he let this drag him down any longer, he wouldn't ever be able to pull himself back up.

Screw it, let's see what happens.

Turning on his heel, he threw on his most confident smile and stepped up to the pair, giving them a wave. "Lemme guess. You're hand models. Gotta say, though, you're in the wrong line of work. Both of ya could easily do shoes too."

Was that cheesy? Probably. He was about a year out of practice, though, and the rust was showing. Still, there was no harm in at least dipping his toes in.
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Chevron
Unregistered

Conversation with Sharon well under way over coffee, Farrah took a moment to reach out and sip at her coffee, stopping mid tip as a voice pierced its way through their rapport.

The pickup line delivered, Farrah's eyebrow curved upwards, her eye following it to the source, placing her cup back to the table with a look of honestly flustered confusion blooming on her face, one she ultimately resisted. One of her biggest hitches in vain confidence was her hands; never once had she been proud of them, a personal tick maybe.

A nervous laugh escaped her at that point as the punchline came through; it was almost embarrassing to laugh at, and she wasn't sure if it was the quip itself or if someone actually used it for an icebreaker. She looked conspiratorially at Catseye, eyebrows again raising, in search of a reply. Chevron, she was at home in the anonymity of work. Mingling with the rich and famous behind a pseudonym was one thing, it was for her own benefit, to increase her standing, to make herself more valuable, to earn regard and, therefore, positioning.

But outside those doors she still felt sheepish on average, and shied away from all but the closest of friends; strangers offering casual conversation, were Catseye not here, she'd be outright terrified.

It was the one thing her mutant powers couldn't really protect her from. They could stop bullets, let her lift a cargo truck, even let her dive to the bottom of the ocean, but talk to people? She'd had trouble with that for her entire life. Nervously, she ran a hand through her long hair and took the boy in. Touch of scruff, blonde hair, looked strong. She let Catseye have the first word though, instead giving him a half-smile as she pointlessly stirred her already whipped-up coffee.
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Catseye
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Glamour Puss
When it came to being social, Sharon was either one of two ways. She loved attention, like any good cat, as being admired was never unpleasant. But there were always times when she preferred solitude, and she was not always the nicest when it was interrupted. Fortunately, her relaxed state and delicious drink had her feeling quite sociable today. Farrah’s shyness hadn’t really been much of an obstacle for Sharon, who was easy going enough that it didn’t offend her when Farrah got quiet. Of course, she easily noticed the discomfort on the woman’s face, as a stranger came up and…Gave either the worst pick-up line she’d ever heard, or a fantastic joke as an ice breaker. Either way, Sharon let out a bright laugh at it, not in any demeaning way towards Bobby, just showing her enjoyment of the situation.

Bright violet eyes sparkled as she winked at Chev, stretching one sandaled foot out and flexing her toes playfully, the retracted claws peeking out for a split second. Her smile still wide and amused, she nudged a chair out, twirling a finger in her curls and giggling again.

“I’m glad you didn’t go with L’Oreal, which I must say is overused.” Flipping her lavender hair pointedly, she leaned forward, tail flicking behind her, one hand motioning towards the empty seat. “Would you care to join us, or is this a hit-on-and-run?” The feline woman grinned teasingly at the blonde man, shifting to allow her tail a little more room on the cushioned seat, glancing at Chevron. She knew the other woman was shyer in public than in the club – completely different settings, of course. And if Chev acted uncomfortable, Sharon would gladly make excuses for them to leave and get away from Bobby.

Tail flicking beside her, Sherry brushed her fingers over the tip slowly, combing her nails through her fur absently, lifting her drink and taking a sip of the delicious frozen beverage. Licking some whipped cream off the top of the domed lid, the feline woman tapped her toes against the floor, glancing momentarily at Chev before looking back to Bobby. “I’m Sherry.” She didn’t introduce Farrah, uncertain how the other woman would want to be introduced.
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Bobby Drake
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He'd actually cringed internally at the awfulness of his little line, but neither of these girls seemed terribly offended by it, so he decided everything was cool. Chalk one up for the old Drake charm. Taking a little sip of his coffee, he glanced back and forth between the two of them. Both of them were attractive, there was no denying that, but when the lavender haired one moved, he caught sight of something that he hadn't noticed earlier. Something moved behind her. A closer look confirmed that it was what it appeared to be - a tail.

For most people, that probably would have been enough to send them running. For Bobby? It was Monday. He wasn't even fazed by the sight, though he was a little surprised that no one was paying her the wrong kind of attention. Then again, she might not be a mutant - could just be one of those cosplayers he had heard about. That wasn't a subject he was going to breach, though. Not yet, at least.

She offered him a seat and a quip, which earned her a smile. Taking his place in the chair as she introduced herself, he returned the favor. "Bobby. Nice ta meetcha." That done, he looked at the other woman, wondering if she had a name as well. She didn't seem like much of a talker, though, or at least that was the impression he was getting. Shrugging it off, he decided to try and spark some conversation.

"So, what're you two lovely ladies up to today? Anything special, or just some downtime?"

Place to start, anyway.
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Chevron
Unregistered

Sharon's bravado steeled her a bit. Again, Farrah had enough run-ins on the street to ensure she wasn't overly fond of random acts of community with strangers. It was no guarantee that she'd be safe from prejudice, either from being 'clocked' or from being fingered as a mutant. She obviously had no trouble passing either, but some people seemed to have an extra sensory proclivity to broadcasting things in douchey ways, even if the evidence was insurmountable in the other direction.

But the confidence Catseye displayed and the amiable nature of this scruffy looking boy who'd sought suddenly to join her made her think that maybe she could afford to tap into reserves of confidence normally reserved for wooing wealthy people away from their money at the Hellfire Club.

When he looked to her from Sharon, she gave the tiniest nod and gave him her name. "Farrah." She followed that up with a smile then and sipped more of her drink, feeling suddenly awkward, as if they'd been infiltrated, which she saw as a silly bit of worry. When he asked what the two of them were up to, she piped up without thinking.

"Sitting in a Starbucks talking with strange men who open conversation with Don Johnson's worst pickup lines. It's a hobby."

She sipped again, folding one leg over the other at the side of her chair. "And shopping."

'Oh god,' she thought in her head. 'Was that the funny kind of blunt or did you just make a complete and total twat of yourself?'

"What about you Bobby?" She quickly followed up with, cleaning up with conversational defCon1.

Chevron, in that moment, briefly wondered how she was able to get out of her apartment every day without having a panic attack, or how behind a specific set of doors she turned into something far more alluring.
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Logan
Unregistered

The noise of New York City was overshadowed for a few moments as the loud engine of a Harley Davidson V-Rod motorcycle rumbled along. The bike pulled over to the curb in front of a Starbucks, where the patrons that were outside immediately began complaining about the mind-rattling sound. For a brief instant, the engine rumbled even louder as it was put into first gear and then into park, before it was shut down and there was silence.

None other than Logan dismounted the motorcycle, taking a moment to stand by the bike in order to remove his gloves and his jacket, which he set carelessly onto the seat of the bike. The short man turned towards the Starbucks while sticking a cigarette into his mouth, lifting a zippo lighter up in order to light it. It took a few flicks of the lighter due to the wind that passed between the buildings, but covering the flame with his hand, he was able to get it lit within a few puffs. He didn't usually smoke cigarettes, but his time away had made him a lot less picky. Carrying a pack of cigarettes was a lot easier than keeping up with a bunch of large cigars. After he had gotten himself situated, Logan walked into the front door of the Starbucks, still puffing away on the cigarette.

“Oh sir, we don't allow smoking in here or outside in our dining area,” an employee said immediately, as if she had been watching him approach.

“Yea?” Logan said, looking around at the crowded Starbucks and wondering why the in the hell he had chosen to stop here instead of a gas station. Eh, he knew why. Starbucks coffee was tasty and he hadn't had a good cup of joe in months. “Alright,” he said after a moment, turning back to the door. Opening it a bit, he stood in the open door and finished off the cigarette in several large drags, then walked back in while blowing smoke everywhere.

“Th-... thank you,” the barista said, looking displeased at the smoke. She gave an apologetic look to a lady who was in line in front of Logan as the customer gave a few over-dramatic coughs.

Logan waited in line, looking down at his cell phone. He sent a text to Kurt, letting his friend know that he had made it safe back to New York City. He then sent one to Hank and Warren, letting them know the same. After several minutes, he finally approached the cashier.

“Can I interest you in a banana nut loaf or perhaps a grande cinnamon latte?” she asked.

“No darlin'. A large coffee, black. Don't put any of that shit in it, just straight coffee,” Logan said, then pulled a wad of cash in order to hand over a couple of dollars. He walked to the end of the line where the drinks were delivered, and his was already waiting on him since all they had to do was pour it up. Logan paused and gave the air a sniff. Perhaps it was the coffee, or the cigarette, or a combination of both, but he didn't smell it til now.

“Bobby,” Logan said, raising his cup of coffee towards the Iceman, who was currently with two attractive ladies. He turned and reached to a nearby table which was occupied by one man on a laptop and he grabbed the unused chair. Dragging the chair a few feet across the floor, it made a god-awful noise as it's legs ground against the tile floor. The man at the table looked up from his computer and raised his hand as if to say something, but he kept his mouth shut.

“Didn't expect to run into ya here,” Logan said, spinning the chair around and taking a seat next to Bobby. He finally looked towards Farrah and Sharon, his brow raising slightly as he glanced between them. “These don't look like the kinda broads you usually go for, I just gotta say,” he said, taking a drink of his coffee. “But hey, they're cute. I ain't gonna deny that.”

Logan looked from Farrah to Sharon, particularly taking notice of the woman's purple hair and perhaps a few feline features. His nostrils flared a bit as he tried to pinpoint exactly where she had been, who she was, and if he had run into her before. They both felt new to him, but the way they were dressed indicated that they were definitely dumpster diving if they were sitting here talking to Bobby. A particular scent crossed his nose that he had smelled before and Logan nodded to them both.

“Your Queen must have given you two day passes to visit the peons, eh?” Logan said. “To see how the other side lives and shit, hm?” Logan looked to Bobby. “Whatcha got here, son, is two fine ass ladies. Two fine ass ladies that like to dabble with Hellfire, if you know what I'm getting' at. How is ol' Sage doin' these days anyways?” he asked, looking back at the two girls. “Last time I saw her she was so far up Max Coleridge's ass that he had to walk around with his mouth open just so she could see where she was goin'.”

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Catseye
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Glamour Puss
The idea of hiding her tail, her most distinctly mutant trait, didn’t even occur to Sharon. She could have worn a skirt and kept it hidden, but hiding parts of herself simply wasn’t in Sharon’s nature. Oh, she didn’t flaunt it, not like she could have, but she certainly noticed when Bobby’s gaze flicked to the long, furry appendage. It twitched, as if sensing the attention, but she made no move to hide it. After all, it was no more attention grabbing than the lavender hair, or her purple, slit-pupiled eyes. She got her fair share of bad attention for her appearance, of course, but then Sharon was used to that. She’d lived in Mutant Town long enough that she could handle herself. And Bobby seemed to handle the sight of her extra appendage with grace, seemingly not bothered to be seen talking to someone with a tail.

It earned him points, in her book, his nonchalance. He neither asked, nor stared, nor scorned her for it, and that earned him a bright smile. Farrah’s blurted response to his question caused Sherry to let out a snorting laugh, especially as she added the mention of shopping as an afterthought. Taking a long sip of her drink she grinned at Bobby, curling a lock of hair around one finger absently.

“Ah, nothing special, really.” Before she could say anything else, she tilted her head, catching the sound of a motorcycle before it roared into view outside the shop. Shifting in place, had her ears been feline they would have pressed against her head, and her nose twitched lightly at the smell of gasoline. Glancing out the window, she watched curiously as a man approached, and other than to watch his rather abrupt interaction with the poor employee, she paid him little mind. At least until he made his way over to their table and sat, striking up a conversation with Bobby as if he’d been invited.

To be honest, it didn’t bother her much – after all, he obviously knew Bobby, so she couldn’t fault him for saying hello. Wincing a little and lifting a hand to her head at the screech of chair legs against the floor, she did finally give the short man a startled look at being called a broad. What decade was this again? She tried not to be offended, although the sudden twitch of her tail was irritable, meeting Logan’s gaze levelly, her own nostrils flaring. Recognizing the twitch of his nose, she didn’t smile at the other feral, only tilting her head to regard him quietly. At least until he started commenting on them being allowed out, as if they were offending him by being there. Sharon’s tail flicked, and she smoothed her hands over her legs, lavender eyes studiously blank.

“Considering I used to live on the streets here, I am sure I do not understand what you mean.” Contrary to the man’s split judgment, Sharon felt no shame admitting that she was not always as lucky as she was now, with her friendship to Sage. She felt it unnecessary to point out that she used to scavenge and beg in these very alleys, both human and feline. But it was not something she was ashamed about. Plenty had it worse than she had, especially when her alternate forms had always given her an edge. However, the insults to Sage, those were unacceptable. The feline woman stiffened sharply, tail freezing in place as her claws slid slowly out, before retracting back in as she took a breath.

“Coleridge is a terrorist, and for what he did to Tessa, I’d like to gut him and leave him rotting in a desert for SHIELD to collar.” The lavender haired woman spat viciously, a low growl emanating from her throat before she swallowed it. Shaking her hair out, she eyed Logan sharply, not bothering to give him the appraising look he had insulted them with. “However, I am unaware of what we’ve done to you to earn such treatment, although I am sure you will overshare as to why.” Her voice was dry, and she shared an almost exasperated look at Chev, but her expression towards Logan remained relatively polite. Despite the irritation showing from the lavender tail that continued twitching, she refused to rise to the bait. After all, they were merely sitting in a Starbucks. This was no place to start a fight or an argument.
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Bobby Drake
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"Oh hey, she speaks." Flashing the girl called Farrah a smile, Bobby sipped on his drink, taking in both hers and Sharons answers to his questions. Just out shopping, nothing too fancy about that. Essentially the same thing he was doing - taking some time, relaxing, getting out of his head for a while. Absolutely nothing wrong with that.

Farrah did get a laugh out of him regarding her feelings on his opening line, though. "I'm a little rusty, so sue me," he replied, and then it was his turn to explain his presence here today. "Ah, ya know, needed a little liquid caffeine to get me through the day. Work kept me out a little late, but I'm not quite ready to head home yet."

Further conversation was interrupted by the arrival of one fairly hairy Canadian. He'd announced his presence with the aid of his motorcycle, and then again when he decided to fly in the face of common courtesy and blow a lungful of cigar smoke into the shop. "Ah jeez..." he muttered at the sight, wondering what cosmic entity he'd offended to allow for this coincidental meeting.

For a second or two, Bobby considered trying to hide from Wolverine, but before he got the chance, he'd been spotted, and before he could object, Logan had joined them in what had to be the most annoying way possible. Guy sure could pick his moments. "Hey Logan," he said in greeting, all the while trying to figure out how to make the best of this situation.

Shaking his head at Wolverine's comment about Sharon and Farrah not being his type, Iceman let out a quiet sigh and took a long drink before he replied. "Just havin' a conversation," he stated. "I'm not lookin' for a date...not really ready for that yet."

And then Logan made an observation about how the girls smelled, and the situation changed, just a bit. If what Wolverine was saying about them being tied up with Hellfire was true, well, this might turn a little ugly. He was happy to see that no one had jumped up and flown off the handle yet, though, and with any luck it'd stay that way.

"Whoa, hey, okay...let's all relax here. No one's lookin' to start a fight." Except for Logan, probably. "Been a long night, and I really don't wanna have to get into it with you guys, so everyone just...be cool."
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Chevron
Unregistered

Had Farrah been with the Hellfire Club more than a year, she may have had more knowledge of just who Wolverine was. But as it stood, she paid no notice to the hirsute, gnomish little man as he rudely made his loud and obnoxious entrance to the cafe.

The conversation with Mr. Drake continued, amicably, despite the disturbance brewing as it made its way from door to counter and, finally drawing her eye, back to their table, sidling up next to their newfound friend and giving, surprise surprise, another rude introduction. His words bit and though she showed no real outter marking of the wound it stung nonetheless. She'd been working a stripper's pole for two years before the Hellfire Club opened it's doors to her. On top of that she worked two different daytime jobs, each scrimping and saving together enough for her to stay in school and keep medicated, if only barely.

Even now, with the Hellfire Club affording her a much more luxurious set of circumstances, she was no slouch. She was a pawn after all, a servant with no real standing or clout. Farrah knew the importance of a hard day's work.

His galloping assessment of their characters seemingly finished, Sharon jumped to the defense and Farrah, her jaw set, licked her lips quietly for a moment while Catseye fed her alibi. Chevron didn't know Max Coleridge, and given what she'd been told, she didn't want to. A man with little in the way of direction when it came to the differences between want and need, not to mention his treatment of some of the people who'd happened through the club during his tenure as Black King, she was (fairly) certain that she was glad the mysterious Red Court kept to themselves. If White exemplified Diplomacy, and Black exemplified Skullduggery, then red surely counted for blood and brutality, in which case her limited knowledge of its king saw him as well suited for the role.

Drake moved to clear his friend and keep the peace, and act that pried from her a moment of scoffing laughter, which she covered her mouth to hide poorly.

"Keep cool? I think you should put your friend in a freezer if keeping cool is what we want here. I'm a serving girl. I serve drinks and fantasies to men and women who require my company. Some might call me a day tripper or a whore but I'm honest about it and I make no qualms that I do what I need to do to get by. If he has any real allegations against the nature of my employer I'm certain he's free to contact their legal teams over the phone, if of course his knuckles aren't too busy dragging against the ground to dial the number."
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