In the red haze of Hell’s skyline, Blitz leans against the stone balcony of Stolas’s palace, cigarette smoldering between his fingers. Behind him, Stolas approaches, cloak billowing. Stolas: You always show up smelling like gunpowder and sin.”Blitz?: smirking “You say that like it’s not your favorite cologne.”Stolas: leans in close, voice velvet-smooth
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