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Mr. Danya
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Shit, no cigar. Typical, really.

Vanessa was pouting, though she didn’t realise it. This was going beyond frustrating: didn’t anyone in this school know this Alessio bastard? The guy murdered her BFF for Christ’s sakes, and now she couldn’t get a straight answer on his identity from anyone? Talk about a kick in the teeth.

She let out a short groan, tapping her foot on the ground to vent some of that impatience. She was antsy enough to get the job done without this bastard dragging it out even further by being a total non-entity amongst her schoolmates (except when he was butchering them, anyway).

Turning her attention back to Kimiko, she opened her mouth to keep the conversation going. It shut again, as she immediately ran out of things to say.

What exactly were they supposed to talk about by now, hanging out in a ruined room where crazy people painted posies and pears? ‘Killed anyone?’ ‘Nearly died?’ ‘Seen anyone you love get murdered?’. Yeah, that was real water cooler chatter. Real water cooler in an asylum full of corpses, with bits of dead people floating in it like fruit slices. Peachy.

She still wanted to try, though.

“What’s your name, anyway? Spell it out for me?”
V7 Freunde
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