It was the last thing she felt like drinking. He fixed it. A few random students gawked at them in the hall. He threw the doctor out of the Palazzo on his rear, sending him to the insane plague-infested streets. His analytical bent saved him many times, though he was not sensitive to this. She breathed into a cloth soaked in rose oil as Sebastian had prescribed, but the smell of roses mixed obscenely with the smell of death and decay, causing her to retch. Lucy's grin faded. "I owe you nothing," he repeated, dully. (“No, no. “That cannot happen!” She replied, feeling her world start to disintegrate underneath her feet.
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