“My dear friend,” she laughed, “not so tragic, if you please. He held in his hands many threads. “I’d never have a day of peace again, John. Wood cut him short by stating his intention of crossing the river as soon as possible in order to avoid the storm. Then, as he was trying to bite through the rope, I told him, ‘That’s for 107 Traci, motherfucker. Her sense followed the shoulders under his coat, down to where his flexible, sensitive-looking hand rested lightly upon the table.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjE5MC4yMzkuMTcxIC0gMTQtMDctMjAyNCAwODozNzo0NSAtIDE0MjUyMTUwMw==
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