He had a set of small headphones around his neck, with wires connecting them to a metal box and a small flat. I do not mourn the death of false gods. He glanced at me. His button-down black shirt didn't fit perfectly smoothly around his ribs.
But they stayed close, almost as if afraid that he might run. All ritual at its heart is for the sake of divinity. I wondered if I should warn him about the possibility of nightmares. Ramirez's voice was low, hut the anger carried.
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