She could smell him almost as strongly as she could the new paint on the fire escape walls, along with the wool suit and the weird polyester smell of his wet umbrella. “Ruin me? Think of me with fondness? Are you dying of cancer or something?” He demanded. There was no answer, just grunting, so she repeated the question in Latin, then in Greek, to which Rhea responded. ’ ‘I had never the intention to tell you anything, pig!’ Gosse moved forward a little. .
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