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Mystic Silver Sea
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"What's the matter, honey?" asks Elliot fucking Keyes, smirking at you. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
>Regardless, he needs to be arrested. Train your weapon on him, tell him to put his hands up.
You hold up your gun and scowl. It's pretty hard to breathe in here, and now you can see why. Keyes has a cigarette dangling from his left hand, and there's a lighter in his right. Apparently, nobody ever told the bastard not to smoke indoors.
"That's Detective to you, and you're under arrest," you say. Keyes just gives you a nonplussed look. "I mean it, put your fucking hands up."
"Or what?" Keyes raises an eyebrow. "Are you going to shoot me? Good luck with that, sweetheart." He grins at you, and oh my god he's doing this on purpose. He's realized it bothers you and now he's just milking it.
"Call me by another pet name," you say, steadying your grip on the gun. "I fucking dare you."
"Whatever you say, babe," he says in this horrible, flippant tone of voice.
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