[450 Stone Street.
A tall man stands outside. Golden hair, red eyes, warm tanned skinned; he's the envy of all the ladies. But he honestly doesn't care about your opinion. Nor about the one of the woman who is stepping out of the house.]
Dear, where are you going?
[The man doesn't even deign to turn and acknowledge her but when she gets close
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And he's giving that person the worst glare ever.]
You damned half-breed. Give me back my treasury.
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[Also exhibiting traits of being too proud to walk over and be violent. Come over here, Caster.]
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You should be praising your gods for being able to look upon my face again, mongrel.
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