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Once his coffee was all gone, Peter was left with a mug to swirl around the table and a danish to try to finish. Thankfully, neither would be hard. “His real name’s Nicholas,” he said with his mouth full before swallowing. “And I grew up in the orphanage here in town. Left when I was sixteen for New York though.”
An orphan. Even better. “New York? Been there a few times, not my favorite city in the world but it has it’s moments. What’d you do in New York?”












