Peter wasn't sure how much of his life he'd spent on helicopters at this point. It had to be a lot; his spine no longer contorted itself into strange pretzel shapes while it was pressed against the uncomfortable seat inside. It had to be permanently pretzel shaped now, instead. The battle scars of a Hegemon, he thought, and snorted to himself
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She nodded, and stepped forward.
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But, she didn't think rolling her eyes would have been a good idea under the circumstances, so she returned Peter's glance with a dry look of her own.
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