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Hannibal awoke with a gasp, his body convulsing as he coughed, the taste of blood lingering on his tongue, phantom and bitter. Sweat drenched his skin, his silk pajamas clinging to him like a second, suffocating flesh. The room was dark, a cavern of shadows broken only by the occasional flicker of lightning through the curtains, illuminating the familiar contours of his Baltimore bedroom. His bedroom, how?
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★★☆☆☆ It was ok
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3
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