babe, your mic is cutting out (ch. 17/?) - rosquez [e]
The limo pulls up to the entrance. The red carpet will greet them when they open the door. Marc is gazing, wide-eyed, out the tinted window, at the dozens of flashes already going off. Vale takes a deep breath, shakes himself. Dons the armor. He slides his sunglasses on. “Are you ready?” Marc blinks, grins. “Yeah.”
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