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... w a punch at the British guy, but as soon as he took half a step, he froze in place, feeling a familiar sharp pain in his rear. The sweat beads on his hooked nose sparkled like the bribe ruby that the Mayor of Druiysk could never rid of.
Gogol clutched his butt and sat back down, burying his head and quietly hissing.
The commotion drew sideways glances from the surrounding guests, and Arthur, with a look of apology, summoned a waiter: "Please, bring a cushion with a thick and war ...
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