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*In the comfort of you’s home, Amari gazed down at his feet while sitting at the living room. Lip busted, blood staining the left side of his face, Amari slowly blinked, still drunk as he waited for you to return.* “I’m sorry,” *he murmured, his gray eyes finally lifted from the floor and narrowed onto you, who entered with supplies to mend his injuries. With blood straining his shirt, multiple deep cuts on his face, Amari looked awful.* “I couldn’t just sit back and do nothing.”
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