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Mr. Danya
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Sandy’s stern look faltered a bit when Danny screamed like a little girl, replaced with surprise. He hadn’t been expecting such a shrill response from someone with Danny’s look, but it was enough to distract him from his irritation, if only momentarily.

A brief but tense moment sat between them as Sandy waited for Danny’s response. He had not expected it to be a CD player to the face.

It was fortunate that Sandy had been staring straight at Danny; he may not have played any sports or anything like that, but even he could manage a clumsy dodge when someone threw something straight at him, the portable player smashing into the door behind him. He looked back at where it had hit, long enough for Danny to duck out of his sight.

“What the hell, Danny?!” Sandy yelled at the darkness, gripping the neck of the bottle in anger. He was just trying to calm down and be left alone and process the unreal situation that was going on, and Danny wasn’t even going to so much as give him a hello before he started throwing things at him?

He had no idea what to make of the situation, but he had enough problems without just letting Danny try to nail him with a blunt object then leave without a word. He stepped away from the door, looking for signs of his assailant as his jaw clenched in a tight vice.

“Get out here Danny, you prick!”
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