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"Я же тебе уже говорил, я НИЧЕГО не знаю." (I already told you, I. Don't. Know. ANYTHING.) The word's echoed without him speaking, the voice his, yet somewhat younger. He reckognized the place, the figures, but not why he was-- The man nodded to another figure, his arm flying towards his face with his hand curled into a fist, coliding with his skin before reaching back and aiming for his stomac- Caden blinked, the sight suddenly fainting away as the kitchen counter replaced the metal table, the glass in his hand now shattered in his fist.
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Emily heard the glass shatter and leapt up, worried as she hurried downstairs. "You okay, babe?"
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"Yeah just. . . tripped." He noted, scooping the glass up before grabbing a towel to wipe up the liquor.
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He nodded, rinsing his hand off.
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"Did it cut you? What did you slip on?"
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"Foot slipped, is all, only got minor cuts." He muttered.
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She nodded, kissing his cheek. "I'm here to talk if you need to, okay?"
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He nodded, drying his hand off.
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