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Chapters
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
 
 
 

Thick as Thieves - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by Valerie Jones and Lori McDonald
Last updated: 01/02/2007 02:01:11 AM

Chapter 8

"Non, non. Y' can' force it, comprehende? Y' gotta be gentle, an' delicate." Gambit watched intently as Bobby worked the lock. "Nudge de tumblers into place and voila!" Bobby gaped in amazement as the lid opened. "Ya in."

"I- I did it!"

Gambit grinned. "Y' sure did. But pickin' de lock on my chest simpler dan any lock y' gonna find dat's really s'posed t' keep somet'ing hid. Still, y' done good." He slapped his shoulder and stood up. "Come on, I get y' a beer."

Iceman followed the Cajun down the stairs, still amazed as he slipped his lockpick into an inside pocket. It'd been three weeks since Gambit started teaching him and some of it actually seemed to be sinking in. It made passing himself off at the club a lot easier. They'd actually settled into a routine. Three days a week, his butt belonged to Gambit for training, though working in the time without the X-Men noticing usually required them to be up until the wee hours of the morning. Three nights were his to do with as he pleased, though he never knew ahead of time which nights were going to be his and which ones would have the Cajun knocking on his door, and one night a week, they'd go to the club. Or rather, one night a week Remy would take Bobby there, to be sure he didn't do anything stupid and get himself killed. On his free nights, however, Bobby went on his own. And every night he went there, Diedre was there as well, with a shy smile reserved just for him. He even got to sit with her, on the pretense of teaching her about her powers, and Michael allowed it, with only a snort of derision and some comment or other about it being his time to waste.

Wow. I'm actually pulling it off!

"In de case, homme!"

Bobby looked up to see Remy glaring at him. Blushing, he pulled out the pick and put it back into its tiny traveling case. "Oops, sorry."

Remy grimaced. "You de one gonna be sorry if y' on a job an' find y' pick's busted. Dose t'ings are expensive t' replace."

"I thought they were cheap."

The Cajun snorted. "Cheap tools only good for cheap jobs. Dat t'ings worth 'bout $500." Bobby blanched and he grinned. "My whole set cost 'bout a quarter of a mil."

"A quarter of a... you're nuts!"

He shrugged. "Paid dem off on de first job."

"Holy shit!"

"Shh." The Cajun led the way into the rec room, where Logan was playing pool and Scott and Jean were watching television with Betsy and Warren. Remy made his way over to the little portable fridge and pulled out a beer for himself and Bobby.

"Better throw one a those my way," Logan growled. Remy grabbed a third and tossed it to him. Logan caught it without looking.

Jean looked at them over the back of the couch. "Well, you two seem to be spending a lot of time together."

"Uh." Bobby tried to think of a lie that would fool the team's best telepath, but Gambit just shrugged. Bobby envied him his reserve.

"He m' friend. Dat okay wit' you?"

Scott looked at him and frowned. "Just so long as you don't get him into trouble."

Gambit slammed his beer down on the edge of the pool table in anger. "Hey!" Logan barked. "Watch it, bub."

The Cajun ignored him. "What? Dat what y' t'ink of me? Dat I'm gonna get him into trouble? Dat I'm corruptin' him? Dat nobody c'n be around me?"

"That's not what I said."

"Sure what it sounded like, homme." He walked out.

"Cajun's sure in a mood t'day," Logan pointed out, swigging his beer. "Can't say as I blame him." The last remark was directed at Scott.

Cyclops didn't answer him, turning his attention to Bobby. "Don't you think you're spending too much time with him, Bobby?"

Bobby hesitated. "What do you mean?"

"He's a bad influence." Logan growled and Jean looked annoyed. Warren and Betsy looked alternately smug and embarrassed.

To his own surprise, Bobby felt himself getting angry. "You don't think I can take care of myself?"

"No, that's not what- Why does everyone keep putting words in my mouth?"

Logan grinned. "'Cause yer too busy putting in yer foot?"

Bobby snorted. "Well, I'm getting along fine with Gambit. He's an interesting person once you get to know him and maybe I want him to get me into trouble. Did you ever think of that?" He walked out too.

The shock hit him three steps later. My God, what did I do? He'd never stood up to Scott that way before, and for Gambit! He didn't even like the man. Why defend him?

Feeling slightly guilty, Bobby wandered through the old mansion and out onto the backyard patio. Staring at the sunlight that flickered on the pool, he took a gulp of his beer.

"I don' s'pose y' brought my beer out wit' y', neh?"

Bobby looked around, then up. Gambit was sitting on the roof above him. The same place he always went to when he was feeling troubled. Everyone in the house knew it for he'd spent a lot of time up there after Rogue left him. Even down on the ground as he was, Bobby felt like he was intruding.

"Sorry," he admitted. "I think Logan grabbed it."

The Cajun sighed. "Dat's no big surprise. Oh well."

On impulse, Bobby tossed his own beer up to him. "Here, have mine. I was done anyway."

Gambit caught the bottle neatly, his expression unreadable as he wiped the mouth and took a swig. "T'anks, mon ami."

Bobby hesitated. "Um, you called me 'friend' back in the rec room too. Did you mean it?"

The Cajun was silent a moment, then shrugged. "Sure. Why not? Not dat Scott wanna let me."

"He really gets to you, doesn't he?"

A flash of a grin. "Oui. T'inks he's superior t' anybody who don' measure up t' his moral code. Pers'nally, I don' t'ink he measure up t' mine."

Bobby stepped farther back so he could get a better look at him. The Cajun squinted down at him, his eyes obviously hurting in the sunlight.

"What's your moral code, Remy?"

He shrugged. "Love wit' all y' heart, protect y' friends and fam'ly and s'vive no matter what, so long as de first two are kept safe." He took a swig of the beer. "I t'ink Scott sacrifice us all if he t'ought it de right t'ing t' do. Or let us die if it meant he had t' do somet'ing he didn' agree wit'."

Bobby shook his head. "No, he wouldn't do anything like that."

"Maybe not. I don' know de man ver' well, really." He took a drink and tossed the rest of the bottle down to him. Bobby barely managed to catch it. "You up f' a late night?"

Bobby looked back up at him. "What sort of late night?"

The Cajun grinned again. "De kind t' make Scott squirm."

"So, what do we do, homme?"

Bobby stared at the monolithic museum before him, then gaped at the man by his side. "Why are you asking me?"

"'Cause you de one wants t' learn t' be a t'ief."

"We're going to rob the museum?!"

"Keep y' voice down. Of course we not gonna rob it. Not f' real. We just gonna have a li'l fun."

The Cajun sounded terribly amused, but Bobby was scared half out of his mind. They were crouching on a building beside the museum, dressed head to foot in black with masks pulled over their faces. A duffle bag filled with equipement sat at their feet. He tried to swallow, but his mouth felt too dry. Pulling his mask up to expose his face, he created an ice cube to suck on for moisture.

Remy batted it away. "I said no powers. Now, y' wanna do dis or not? 'Cause if y' don', we c'n turn around right now and go home."

And never go out on another lesson again. Those were the unspoken words, but Bobby understood them. Remy wouldn't let him chicken out or do less than his best even once. If he did, there'd be no more training, and no more Diedre, and his heart couldn't bear that punishment. If he went along with this, it would have to be all the way.

It's not real, he told himself. We're not really going to take anything. With the cool wind drifting past him and the grey stone of the museum filling his eyes, though, it definately felt real. What's to stop us from getting arrested? He wondered. What's to stop us from getting shot?!

Remy stared at him intently, only his red on black eyes visible. "You wanna go home, Bobby?" He asked gently. His words were kind, but the threat was still there. Do it now or never do it at all.

Think of Diedre, he thought, his mantra. Think of Diedre.

"What do I do?" He whispered hoarsely.

Remy grinned. "Dat's de spirit. You jus' tell me what t' do an' follow 'long. If y' tell me t' do somet'ing I don' think I c'n get us outta, den I won', but otherwise you be callin' de shots."

Bobby nodded, almost breathing a sigh of relief. If Remy wouldn't let him do anything stupid, there was a net below him after all. "Is this the way you were taught?" He asked.

The Cajun chuckled. "On m' first job, yeah. Was thirteen years old."

"Did you succeed?"

He shook his head. "Non. Tol' my fat'er t' cut de wrong wire on a sec'rity camera. He got 'way, but I got busted. Fingerprinted me an' t'rew me in the slammer an' everyt'ing t' try an' scare me inta never doin' it again."

Bobby blanched. "You got out?"

"'Course. Y' can' send t'irteen year olds t' jail after all. Wen' home an' got my butt reddened for screwin' up."

He couldn't believe it. "Your father beat you?! But he's the one who cut the wire!"

"So? I de one told him t' do it. Never made dat mistake again."

He sounded so matter-of-fact, Bobby wondered if he'd let him fry to teach him such a lesson. Oh, God.

Remy saw the look in his eyes and chuckled. "It's gettin' late, homme. What d' y' wan' me t' do first? Y' should know if y' been payin' attention."

Think of Diedre.

Nodding slowly, Bobby told the Cajun what he desperately prayed was the right thing to do.

It wasn't nearly as hard as he'd thought it would be. It was difficult getting over to the building and past the security, certainly, especially since Gambit wouldn't let him use his powers, but no more so than some of the missions with the X-Men he'd been on. Yet the reasons were all different, and for the first time in his life, Bobby was the one in charge.

"See that camera?" he whispered, wedged side by side with Gambit in an airshaft in the ceiling. The heat was stifling and he was tempted to put just a thin sheet of ice over himself, but he knew Remy would know.

"Where?" Remy whispered back, a hint of humour in his voice. Bobby felt a brief annoyance, but realized that was silly. Remy wasn't laughing at him. He was enjoying himself instead, and pushing him to do his best. It was a little disconcerting.

"At eight o'clock below us."

"Oui."

Bobby struggled a bit farther forward to get a better view. Half crushed against the side of the vent, Gambit let him.

Bobby studied the angle of the camera and their placement. "There's no way to get by it from here, is there?" He realized.

"Non," Remy gasped. "Not wit' de tools I trained you wit'."

Bobby bit his lip. "So, what do we do now?"

Glowing red eyes watched him silently, and Bobby sighed. "I know, I know. We go back and try again."

"Dat's my boy."

Back on the roof of the museum, Bobby sucked in the cold night air. "Damn," he muttered. "This is impossible." Quickly, he turned around to see if Remy had heard him, but the Cajun was sorting through the contents of his bag and didn't pay attention. "You know what I wish?" He asked.

"What?"

He paced on the roof, careful to keep away from the edge and safely in the shadows. "I wish I'd known about this beforehand, so that I could think to go get the building plans for this place." He looked at the Cajun to see him hiding a small smile. That sneaky, bloody...

"Okay, hand them over."

Gambit grinned widely as he yanked out a folded set of blueprints from his bag and gave them to him.

"You know, you could have told me you had these thirty minutes ago."

Gambit tried to look innocent, which was hard to do with blood red eyes on black. "Moi? I'm jus' along for de ride. 'Sides, dis is more fun."

"You rotten..." Bobby spread the blueprints out. "I should freeze your underwear."

"Can't," he replied smugly. "No powers allowed."

"Just wait 'til we get home then," he muttered darkly.

It turned out that the airvents were indeed the right route to take into the building, Bobby had just taken a couple of wrong turns. They bypassed the alarm systems, Bobby sweating every time he had to tell the Cajun to cut a wire, and crawled in, Bobby drawing on everything that Gambit had taught him to spot the traps and get by them. Without his X-Men training and what he'd learned from Remy, he knew he never would have made it more than three feet into the building, and there were still a few occasions when he had to guess on what to do, which wire to cut, which setting to use. But his luck was holding well and he didn't do anything to set off the alarms.

Unless they're silent alarms, he thought, glancing at the Cajun. Remy looked calm, but Bobby knew he'd trip the alarms in a second if Bobby guided him wrong. However, he was pretty sure he'd get out of there fast once he did, so he tried not to worry. It wasn't easy though. His throat was tight, his hands were soaking in sweat in his gloves and under his mask and his heart felt like it was going to jump out of his chest every time he moved. He badly had to go to the bathroom and for some inane reason, he kept thinking that he was going to crawl around a corner and run right into Diedre, out on a job herself, and that she would then laugh at him. That was silly, though. Diedre may have been married to a master thief, but she was no thief. She'd admitted that to him willingly.

Why am I doing this for a married woman? He wailed silently. He hadn't told Remy that part. While he was sure Remy wouldn't care if he chased a married woman - he'd cheated on his own wife after all - he didn't want to know what he would think of Bobby for doing so.

I love her, he thought. And I could tell she wasn't happy with him. He sees her as an object. He thought of her smooth clean limbs and tremulous smile, the wonderful chill that came from her when she relaxed and let her body temperature drop. It was a turn on for him, though everyone else would avoid them and the cold in the air. Even Michael. I could never do that.

The sound of Remy cutting wires interrupted his reverie. That was a little odd, the Cajun had been waiting for his guidance up till now. He looked up to see Gambit had cut into the wall of the vent and was holding the wires which led to an air vent in the floor right before them. Bobby peered closer to see him closing the wire cutters around a red wire near the front.

Panic stabbed through the younger mutant. "What are you doing?" He hissed. "That's the wrong wire! You want the green one!"

Gambit looked back at him somberly. "It is?"

"Yes!"

"You sure?"

Bobby hesitated, not wanting to second guess him and screw up. He thought it was the wrong wire, but he wasn't sure, any more than he'd been completely sure that the others were. He'd always been that way, second guessing himself and others. He stared at the wire now fearfully.

Is he really cutting the right wire, or is it the wrong wire and he's just seeing if I'm paying attention?

The Cajun waited patiently, but his gaze was intent. Bobby realized something.

He's checking to see if I've been guessing.

Bobby pulled the mask a little bit away from his face to get some air. Blinking away sweat, he peered at the wire, following the route of it, remembering all his training. I'm not sure! he wailed silently. I'm not sure of anything!

"Well?" Gambit asked.

Bobby bit his lip. Be sure. You have to be sure. Trust in yourself for once, you frozen popsicle.

With a supreme effort, he forced down all the little doubting voices and said, with as much confidence as he could muster, "It's the green one."

He flinched as Gambit cut the green wire.

"Was it the right one?" He whispered.

"What you t'ink, homme?"

Bobby took a deep breath and listened. All he heard were the normal night sounds of a building at rest. "I think it was."

The Cajun chuckled. "So, how do I get dis vent off?"

That part was easy. Now that the security system was overridden, a simple screwdriver let them remove it. Once that was done, Bobby could clearly see that they were in the ceiling of a tall gallery, filled with statures in glass cases and paintings. Shadows filled much of the room, except for little lights illuminating the various treasures. Probably to make it easier for the guard to see if they'd been stolen.

"Which one are we going to take?" He asked.

Gambit shrugged, wedged side by side with him again. "I t'ink de one right below us be good 'nough."

Bobby peered down at a tiny statue about 30 feet down. He couldn't make out what it was, but he wasn't going to argue. "Sounds good. I... guess I better get down there, huh?"

To his surprise, Gambit shook his head. "Non, we don' have de time anymore. I go down an' get it. You have t' lower me, and make sure I don' trip anyt'ing on de way down."

Bobby gaped at him, but the only thing he could think of was Oh, thank God!

As the Cajun started removing lines and climbing belts from the pack, Bobby stared down at the gallery. He could see the cameras below, but they were watching the multiple enterances and none were actually pointed at the center of the room. He doubted they expected anyone to come through the ceiling, but it still seemed odd.

There's got to be something else, he thought, staring at the great expanse of open floor. Pressure plates? Nah, too many people walk on them all the time. He frowned, remembering how the mansion grounds were protected, and how he usually detected that sort of security in the danger room. "Remy?"

"Yah?"

"Do you have any powder, or anything that'll make a mist?"

"Why?" The Cajun sounded interested.

Bobby twisted around to look at him. Gambit had backed up and was putting on his climbing gear in the enclosed space. Bobby was immediately glad it wasn't him doing it for another reason. He was nowhere near as flexible as the Cajun. He never would have been able to get the stuff on without either making a hell of a lot of noise or dislocating something.

"Um, I think they've got lasers down there. I want to check."

Even under his mask, he could see the Cajun's broad grin.

Hey, I guess I did something right. Heartened by that, he took the can the mutant handed him and sprayed downwards and around into the gallery. The can released some kind of smoke that spread out thinly and widely, and as it went down it highlighted dozens of lasers around the room.

"Jesus," he whispered. "It looks like a scene from Star Wars. Are you sure you want to lower yourself into that?"

"Oui." The Cajun sounded amused again. "But first y' gotta give me a little room."

Bobby looked back to see he was ready, but with the extra bulk, he couldn't squeeze by him. Carefully, with nowhere else to go, Bobby crawled forward, over the open vent to the other side.

He was halfway across when he slipped.

SHIT!! He wailed inside as he fell through the vent, desperately grabbing for the edge. Barely, he managed to grab it and the relatively thin metal buckled from the sudden stress, almost causing him to lose his grip. For a second, Bobby felt ice start to creep over him. He wouldn't be hurt if he fell in that form. But somehow he stopped himself.

No powers! he thought. No powers! He looked down and his vision whirled. Oh, god, I'm gonna die!

The next thing he knew, Remy grabbed the back of his coat and hauled him far enough into the shaft that he could get the rest of the way in himself.

"Are you all right?" Bobby didn't answer, gasping in reaction. "Bobby!"

Bobby looked back. Remy had pulled his mask up to show his face and he looked genuinly concerned. No amusement, no guarded emotions. Just worried for a friend. Bobby swallowed. "I'm okay. Thanks."

Remy tilted his head to one side. "No problem. Y' wan' t' go home?"

Bobby hesitated, then shook his head. "No, let's just get this over with."

Remy nodded and pulled his mask back on. "It y' call, mon ami."

Five minutes later they were ready, and, braced in the vent with half a dozen levers letting him control the Cajun's descent without having to hold him up fully with his own strength, Bobby lowered him down. Headfirst.

He's a loon, he thought, but the words didn't hold as much force as they did before. He was too worried. Worried that the Cajun would fall, that the guard would walk in and see him, that he'd swing him into a laser beam and he'd get caught. If he did, he knew, he'd blame himself.

I got him into this, he realized. I have to make sure he gets out.

It felt weird, to be concerned about Gambit of all people, but Gambit had been kind to him. He didn't patronize, or laugh at him. He laughed at some of the things he did, certainly, but he didn't seem to think that they meant Bobby himself was any less of a person. And he didn't judge, the way he always felt he was being judged by people like Cyclops. He expected his best from him, but somehow, Bobby didn't think he'd care if he didn't give it. He wouldn't teach him anymore, that was true. But he wouldn't think any less of him.

Shit, Bobby realized. He actually thinks of me as a friend. That was amazing. In all the time Remy had been at the mansion, he'd made two friends. Storm and Bishop. He wasn't sure Rogue counted, since she'd left him, but now Bobby himself made three. He'd never have expected it, and he wasn't sure he felt the same way, but there was a kind of honour in it, that Remy could see him as a friend, when everyone else just saw the scroundrel facade of his, and treated him accordingly.

It's amazing the things you realize about a person when you're lowering them on a rope, he thought and smiled. He may never really like Gambit, but even if he never managed to get together with Diedre, at least he'd learned something new. And not just about how to steal.

"Could y' move me a bit t' de lef'?" Remy whispered through the receiver in his ear. "Y' 'bout t' dump me right in a laser, an' I hate strip searches at de cop shop. Dey never let de women cops do dem."

Bobby looked down, to see Gambit was just inches away from a laser. "Shit!"

"No need t' yell, homme. Dese receivers are pretty sensitive, neh?"

"Oh, sorry."

Bobby shifted him over a bit and started lowering him again. "Okay," the Cajun called. "Dat's perfect."

Bobby stabilized the lines and looked down. Remy was hanging right beside the case, not slowed down at all by the fact that he was upside down as he carefully bypassed the alarm on the case and cut through the glass. How does he do that? I would have passed out by now.

"Uh, isn't the blood rushing to your head?"

"Only when y' tell me it should be."

Bobby bit his lip and waited, watching the exits for any sign of the guards as Remy broke into the case, lifted the statue out and put it in his bag, wrapped in bubble tape. Then he laid a small card down where it'd been.

"Okay, pull me up. An' don' go too fast. I could still swing into one of dese t'ings."

Bobby did as he asked, and it was three agonizing minutes before Remy was back in the shaft with him. Immediately, the Cajun began struggling out of his gear and repacking it while Bobby screwed the vent back into place.

"What did the card say?" He asked.

Gambit chuckled. "It say better luck next time an' has a key t' a bus station locker 'cross de street."

Bobby raised an eyebrow. "Bus station?"

"Sure." He grinned at him. "Y' not plannin' on keepin' de t'ing, are ya?"

"Uh, no, of course not." He was glad he was wearing a mask as he blushed hotly. "How long do you think it'll take us to rewire all the security systems and get out of here?"

"'Bout five minutes wit' me doin' it. Sorry, Bobby, but we only got a few minutes b'fore de guards figure out what happened an' go tearin' 'cross de street t' get dere bauble back."

Oh. man...

Turning, he slapped the wiring for the vent alarm together faster than Bobby would have ever thought possible, turned, and scurried at full speed back the way they'd come. Bobby almost hurt himself trying to keep up.

Once outside, the Cajun ran to the line they'd strung between the building and the one they'd originally started from. It was the bus station Remy had mentioned, a fact which hadn't had any significance until this moment, and swung across. He barely waited for Bobby to follow before he pulled the line down after them and ran into the shadows.

"Quick now, strip. I hope y' remembered t' wear y' street clothes under dat."

Frantically, Bobby pulled off the black clothing to show ordinary jeans and a tee-shirt underneath. Already changed, Gambit emptied the black bag, turned it inside out to show the words Adidas on the side and refilled it, stuffing the black stuff on top. Switching his gloves for ordinary biking gloves, he slung the bag over his shoulder, ran to the stairwell and let them both in, locking the door behind them. He was moving so fast that Bobby was nearly panicking, imagining all the things that could go wrong. Oh, God, they're going to be waiting for us, I just know it!

Remy ran down the stairs two at a time, hesitated at the door, and quickly walked out, Bobby behind him. The bus station was mainly empty at this hour, most of the patrons over boarding a bus headed for Atlanta. Ignoring them, Remy walked over to the lockers, picked the lock on one and put the statue inside. Relocking it, he grabbed Bobby's arm and pulled him over to the line up for the bus, handing him a ticket as he did so.

"We're going to Atlanta?" Bobby hissed.

"Y' rat'er stay here?" The Cajun murmured as several security guards raced into the station towards the lockers.

The last ones on the bus, they settled into their seats, quietly leaning back as the bus pulled out and away from the station, to the sound of a dozen sirens headed in.

"I did it," Bobby murmured several hours later after the bus had pulled into a reststop to refuel and they'd accidently wandered off in spite of the driver's warnings that he wouldn't wait for anyone. "I actually did it!" He yelled to the heavens. "What a rush!!"

My God, I actually want to do this again! What would Scott think? Who cares?

Walking at his side, Remy laughed. "Didn't know what de pinch really felt like, did ya?"

He shook his head, still grinning. "I had no idea. And you used to do this all the time?"

Remy's face sobered. "Yeah," he said sadly. "Kinda miss it too."

"Whoo, that was incredible. You really had me going at the end, though. We cut it so close!"

His teacher smiled. "I probably shouldn'ta told dem it was dat close, but it didn' matter. Dey woulda got dere 'bout de same time we did irregardless of where we left it an' least dis way I know how long it take de average cop t' show up. In a real good pinch, de mark don' know 'bout de pinch at all 'til y' long gone."

Bobby frowned. "I remember you telling me that once, when we were on that mission to FOH headquarters."

"Oh, dat! What a foul-up!"

"Yeah," He looked down. "I guess I should apologize for that."

He glanced at him. "Y' already did."

"I meant I should apologize and mean it."

"Oh." He looked at an approaching car and stuck his thumb out. It passed by without slowing. "Nuts. I was hopin' for more trucks. Dey're de most likely ones t' stop f' a body at dis time a night."

Bobby yawned, though he still felt exhilerated. "We're not going to get home until noon tomorrow at this rate."

The Cajun chuckled, grinning widely. Bobby found himself returning the grin. "Hey, don' worry. Dere's a hotel couple a miles up de road. We not get a ride by den, we take one."

"You're going to steal a car?"

"Hey, we bring it back, neh?"

 

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