Leach shoved the Boxster's paperwork at them. Seemedlike it's the right thing to do. You can't kill a kiss bug. Then best take your leave.
When you're ready, he repeated. Sure, she said. He munched and kept his attention on the steamed-up windows ofCrushley's Laundry just across the street and down three doors fromwhere he'd parked. I'm shoving off.
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