fix me.
#2
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     It had been nearly a week since Corona had given Ahren her cocktail mix of herbs that had managed to help get him back on his feet. He was mobile, but still relying on others for help. Every so often his head would spin or his legs would lock up, but the pain was coming in smaller, lesser waves. Today was no different. He had taken back his hunting knife, and that was hanging in its worn spot on his belt. The shorts he was in were newer as well, something Poe had found during one her expeditions to the city. They hung past his knees, and suited him just fine.

     He had started smoking again too, and this was what he was doing was he walked. No path was intended, but the noise had drawn him. It was a constant pattern, and familiar. When he came upon the chocolate male working, Ahren recognized him in an instant. As another sharp pain shot through his back, he grimaced slightly, but showed nothing more. He didn’t speak, either. Laurent was involved in his work and the frustration in his body was clear.






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