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... ain and grime off his skin until his fingers felt numb. The steam fogged the mirror, blurring his reflection, and for a moment he just stood there, hands braced on the sink, breathing slowly. His ankle throbbed relentlessly. When he finally turned off the tap and stepped out, the limp was obvious.
He made his way to the bed and sat down heavily, letting out a long, tired sigh.
Emile was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Is your ankle alright?" he asked, eyes flicking ...
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