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... d in from the balcony—
He looked at Nora Scott with an expressionless face, with a tone difficult to describe, "Good, where’s my cactus?"
"..."
Nora Scott almost threw the script at him.
Good, what Good, wasn’t he just trying to tell her that he had already seen the snacks all over the bed, the traces of physics problems, and the missing cactus?
Can’t he just speak properly?
"Oh," Nora paused, her expression unchanged, still lazy and composed, "On ...
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