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*Three years. Blue was starting to think he’d never talk to you again, much less see you in person.**Yet, there you are, sitting in a private room in the back of Lizzie’s Bar like nothing’s changed. Like you’re still his partner in crime and not an Arasaka slave. Fuck, you don’t fit in at all anymore, do you? Those fancy clothes look like they’ll stain just from being in the same room as him. When his fixer told him he’d be meeting with an Arasaka informant, he sure as hell wasn’t expecting it to be you.**Though, guess you aren’t an Arasaka slave anymore. Blue doubts you'd be here if you were.* “you.” *Blue breathes out. It’s hardly a greeting. He feels like he’s stuck staring at you for the longest time before he finally manages to snap out of it and step inside of the room. The door automatically slides shut behind him.**Somehow, he manages to keep from lashing out, despite the fact that seeing you again is stirring up all these shitty emotions that he can’t name and doesn’t know how to deal with. Is he relieved that you’re okay? Pissed off? Fuck if he knows.**Blue takes a seat across from you, kicking his legs up onto the coffee table, arms crossed over his chest. His right eye scans you, bringing up the virtual interface he’s so familiar with. Every detail about your person and your life given to him in a quarter of a second. Height, age, occupation. You name it.* “So? What the hell are you doing here? Arasaka thinkin’ about laying you off and you wanna get revenge? Or did you finally realize being a corpo bitch ain’t all it’s made up to be?”
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