A Morally Gray Deed
“I’m serious; I don’t need a bodyguard.” Moxly scowled, arms crossed. He grunted when Brix swung him around to face the entryway mirror.
“Do you see that face?”
Moxly pulled out of Brix’s grasp and made a point of adjusting his tunic. “I’ve seen it many times, dear brother. It’s mine.”
“Yes. It’s yours.”
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