For Mithra.
Dr Cato is stunned speechless when I nail her to the wall. The perpetual simpering smile freezes on her face. By the time she realises that her team of costumed Sailor Moon rejects aren’t coming for her, soft canine whinges start issuing from her throat.
It’s unbelievably cathartic.
I pull one of my shuriken out of her sleeve and wave it under her upturned nose. “You didn’t expect these, did you?”
Perks of shuriken is that you can hide them well. Even in business casual.
“That’s a dirty trick,” she grumbles sourly.
I choose to take that as a compliment.
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