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... g in an armchair. He looked down at the smoldering embers in the fireplace, his hand resting on a sphere of polished crystal. His thumb drifted down the smooth surface before his hand slipped away, stopping atop a flask with a name engraved on it: ‘Ironsides.’ He tapped a finger against the name once before picking up a lighter next to the flask. He turned it over in his hand and frowned at its engraving.
‘It’s bad for you, Detective. Love, Ishtar’
He flicked the lighter open and ...
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