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... ourced from the kitchen, as if someone were cooking at night.
A faint sweetness of caramelized onions and something vaguely burnt wafted from the kitchen—along with the clatter of mismatched utensils and the occasional muttered curse from the man wearing an apron two sizes too tight.
Vex.
He stood hunched at the hearth stove, sleeves rolled, hair tied sloppily back, trying to stir something with the wrong end of a spoon. A streak of flour ran across his cheek.
His ...
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