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Summary
The one time that he spoke with someone about being King Dice as a child, they didn’t even look up from their rifle scope as they crushed his dreams.
“Girls aren’t Kings, stupid. Men are are Kings.”
He can’t recall half his childhood as well as he can recall that conversation.
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He enjoyed the dresses, the makeup, the careful application of things to accentuate his eyes or his figure. He loved it.
He never had a problem with that. It was other people that he grew weary of.
