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Summary
“Julian, you’re up,” Jaskier whipped his head up, opening his eyes again. Famora stood in front of him, looking at him with a hard gaze. For a moment, he just stared straight back, completely dumbfounded.
“B-but I just finished up with…” He gestured down his body, bruises already blooming along with dozens of angry, red marks. She sighed, a flicker of something passing through her eyes, as she pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Look, I know it’s not ideal, but it’ll have to do,” she said.