“Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites. My foster mom works there as a second job. I don’t see what you can have to say. “Why come after me after all these years, Sebastianus? Haven’t you found any sycophants to convert, any nubile young nymphets to bring into the cannibal flock?” “Why should I do that if there is still the chance of you?” “What if there could be no chance of me? How do you know you can have me?” “I see your game.
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