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“This is quite the unexpected reunion,” you remark, keeping the muzzle of your revolver pressed against the back of Juno's skull, “Can I ask what you're doing here?”
“Stealing a religious icon, obviously,” Juno sneers, rolling her eyes. You can tell that she's rolling her eyes, even from behind her. You can hear it in her voice. “What's wrong?” she asks, with a gasp of mocking surprise, “Oh, I know. You're trying to figure out if this is all some massive coincidence, me breaking in like this while you're in town. Am I right?”
She is, of course, but you'll be damned if you're going to admit it.
“Don't bother answering that. I know I'm right,” the red-haired girl continues, “The whole world doesn't revolve around you, Master Pale. This is just a very good night for a bit of thievery – heavy cloud to blot out the moon, and heavy rain to chase away any casual witnesses.”
“And you just so happen to be after the same Galsean icon that I'm after?”
“Until you opened your silly mouth, I didn't know you were after the icon too,” Juno laughs, “But even so, how many solid gold Galsean icons do think are just floating about on the open market? Now, if you let me get this bloody door open then we can both get on with our lives. I give you my solemn promise not to commit any betrayals, murders or acts of sabotage in the next, oh, six hours. How does that sound?”
Against your better judgement, you lower the hammer on your revolver and step back. With a curt nod of thanks, Juno gets back to work on picking the lock. A few moments later, the door opens with a heavy click. Without another word, Juno picks up her tools and saunters into the office before stooping down beside a locked cabinet. A minute more, and this too stands open.
“Where did you learn how to do that?” you ask curiously, peering over Juno's shoulder as she takes out a heavy burlap sack. She doesn't answer, merely casting off the burlap sack to reveal the Galsean icon in all its glory.
Beautiful and hideous, otherworldly and visceral, the icon resembles a heavily pregnant woman with several pairs of additional arms rising up from behind her back. Though you can't say exactly what it is, the icon is somehow hideous to look at. Even Juno regards it with some faint trace of disgust on her face. Hauer called it a devil, an evil spirit, and you can well understand him now.
“Right,” Juno breathes, “Now, do you want to fight to death over this piece of shit now, or later?”
“Why don't we skip the fighting?” you suggest, raising your revolver once more, “Step back from the icon, please. You're not taking anything.”
“Really? We're really doing this?” Juno groans, backing away and sitting down in Hauer's chair, “Fine. Your move, Master Pale.”
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