🎭 For Junkenstein and Reaper c:
Junkenstein
Reaper
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"'m sorry for what happened ta ya. . ." Junkenstein lowers his head, "It should 'ave gone differently."
She’s silent at his words at first, before stepping up. His flesh hand was taken in hers, the gloves she normally wore in her pockets. Her mask was still on, knowing the regret he felt when he saw her actual face. “It’s alright, Jamison. You’re still my son.” She murmured, stroking his palm.
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