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... d rolled his shoulders once, the payout chit pressing into his stomach like a slap.
He muttered under his breath, "Alright, Zero Drip 2.0, let’s see if we can buy enough black fabric to keep people from calling me the Discount Ninja for at least a week."
Just to be safe, he fished the chit out and triple-checked the balance, squinting like the numbers might’ve somehow dropped just because he looked too long at a pair of tactical gloves earlier.
"Still there," he whispered ...
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