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"You have hairier feet than a satyr."

"Don't be an idiot, Achilles, they've got hooves."

"Hairier than a satyr's ass, then. And they stink."

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Some guys just can't resist doing a comrade a favor.

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How many nights has he entertained this very vision of Tang Fan, all lean long lines and li after li of smooth skin? Most, in some shape or another, since Tang Fan first stormed into his life and made his home in what wreckage he found there. Too many, but so few. To have it now, real enough to see, too far from reach to touch— it’s agony.

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Jack gets sick. Phryne puts him in her bed.

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He has never taken a disciple before this one, that is true, but Yin Chen has long been enlightened as to what such an arrangement entails.

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