Snippet (or chapter?) Thursday
Viper: Exodus
Jak, now a captain in Spargus's infiltration division, has been gathering people who have helped them in the past, and Daxter has convinced whole sections of the slums to trust the Wastelanders over the Grand Council. (LONG post warning, it's basically a whole chapter)
240 people crowded around the narrow road in front of the Naughty Ottsel, murmuring nervously to each other. They had been slowly preparing for this night for weeks -- hardly enough time to uproot an entire life. But then, many of them had been uprooted already. Many carried young children, only recently reunited with their families after Praxis's mass kidnapping orders during his hunt for Mar. They varied between terrified silence and hungry wailing as the people waited for their chosen leader to arrive.
It had been a difficult, and at times acrimonious, task choosing someone to lead them once beyond the walls for good. Fifty people had withdrawn from the evacuation entirely when a Lurker was ultimately chosen. But Brutter had lived among the people of the Water Slums for years. They knew him. They trusted him.
His deputy, the blonde barmaid from the pub, seemed like an odd choice at first. But as preparations progressed, it became clear that Tess had a way with people -- and with weapons. Her confidence put them all at ease.
The murmurs quieted when Tess appeared with Brutter, Jak, and Daxter. More people gathered in the pub doorway behind them to watch, but it was clear that they were on team "leaving Haven is mutiny or cowardice".
"This is everyone?" Brutter called, furrowing his fuzzy brow. "Water Slum friends?"
"Here!" One of his former neighbors called, waving from a section of the crowd.
"Good! Saltpeter Row?"
The inhabitants of the row houses made varying sounds of acknowledgement, and Brutter nodded, continuing to call out the names of streets who had agreed to join the secession.
"Morgan street!"
"Redcap Row!"
"Shark Flats!"
"4th Street!"
Only a few groups were unaccounted for in the end, though this wasn't as much of a surprise as expected. They'd known from the beginning that some would probably back out when it was time to go. Better the devil they knew than the one they didn't. But everyone else had shown up.
They shuffled restlessly, meager belongings in carts or on their backs, and waited to find out what was going to happen. Surely they weren't all going to walk to the abandoned temple!
Brutter nodded to Jak, and the boy stepped forward and raised his voice.
"Okay! Here's what's going to happen! Anyone with small kids or trouble walking is going to take the air train to the foot of the mountains. The Babak are waiting with balloons to get you to the temple. It's going to take a few trips, so don't crowd. You'll all get there, I promise."
Daxter took over as soon as Jak finished.
"Everybody else: we're formin' a convoy of four groups! If you know how to fight, yer on the outside of the column. If you don't, stay in the middle! We're gonna stop for breaks sometimes, but we're hiking straight through the Industrial Sector, folks. It's gonna be a good hour or two before we get everyone into the Power Station teleport ring."
Jak nodded and pointed left in the direction they'd be heading. "Tess will be leading Group 1 with the gyro-burster to clear out any threats ahead of us. Jinx is taking Group 2. Group 3, you're with Mogg and Grim. Everyone else, you're with me. For now, everyone with kids move to the right."
The shuffle was tedious, and it was close to ten minutes before everyone was divided into the five groups. The thirty-five people with elderly, children, and mobility issues huddled together as the rest split into crowds of roughly fifty each. Even fifty civilians was a massive number to protect from Deathbots and metalheads. Tess and Jak shot each other grim looks, each worrying about the same thing:
How many people were they going to lose on their way to the power station?
"I'm coming too!"
Jak turned to see Keira pulling her arm free of Samos's grip. His heart leapt: he'd hoped against hope that she would flee the city with them. That she would wrench herself out from under the sage's thumb.
"Keira, no!" Samos gasped, "This is madness!”
He turned a stern look to Jak. "This has gone too far, Jak! You are out of control!"
"Out of your control," Daxter corrected sharply, "That's what you mean, right?"
"You're leading these people to their deaths! I will not allow my daughter to be one of them!" Samos snapped.
Jak felt nerves crawl up his throat. He wanted to vomit. It didn't matter how confident he was as a Captain of Spargus, Samos had programmed his behavior for years and standing up to him was hard.
He swallowed back bile and cleared the trepidation from his throat.
"You didn't have a problem sending someone else's kid into hell for your own gain. You're not doing yourself any favors by waiting until now to have a problem with it."
Keira gestured to him. "See? Thank you, Jak."
"Keira, that's enough," said Samos sternly, "I know it seems harsh to you, but someday you will understand that I am simply doing what is best for you!"
"No, I'm doing what's best for me," Keira retorted, "I'm *helping people."*
"Keira, I forbid you to step out that door!" the sage cried in a panic.
Keira swung a bag up onto her shoulder.
"I'm no good to anyone in a gilded cage, kept out of danger. And you have no right to fight about it after what you put the boys through."
"Of course I have a right! You're my daughter!"
Keira set her jaw. She closed her eyes and took in a long, shaky breath. Then she stepped out the door.
"Goodbye, Daddy."
Tess squeezed her shoulder as she passed them to gather her platoon. "Hang in there, kiddo," she murmured.
Brutter also eyed her with sympathy as he followed.
"Let us go, friends!" He loudly croaked, "Before we are losing the moonlight!"
Jak frowned thoughtfully. "You got a gun?" he asked Keira quietly.
She shook her head, still trembling with the same adrenaline he felt.
"N-no. But I've got some EMP grenades I've been working on. In case of bots."
Jak's eyebrows rose, and he grinned. "Can't wait to see 'em."
"Yeah well. You probably won't have to.”
÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷
Two days after the exodus
"I hooked the generator up to the temple, so we should have working shields in a day or two." Keira collapsed onto the ledge beside Jak, utterly exhausted.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and dropped an impulsive kiss onto the crown of her head. "You're a miracle worker, you know that?"
The butterflies in Keira's stomach made an unwelcome encore appearance, beating their little wings to fan heat up into her cheeks. She liked this new Jak. He was more open with his feelings. Braver about touch. But Precursors if it wasn't an adjustment!
Still. She needed the comfort just now. Keira had just uprooted…everything, for the second time in her young life. She'd walked away from her own father, and no matter how justified she knew it was, it still hurt. She felt small, and lost, in a world far too large for her. Had she really stopped to fully count the cost of joining the formation of the refugee village?
Yes. She had. Keira forced her mind away from the betrayal in her father's eyes, back to the joy that was in Jak’s eyes when he whispered to her that he'd found freedom.
"I don't feel like a miracle worker," she confessed after a few minutes, "I feel like a fraud. I'm- I'm just shy of completely overwhelmed. We have almost nothing, and if Haven decides they don't like us being up here, I don't know how long my shields will even work. Why are they looking to me for all the solutions? Why not Brutter, or Tess?"
Jak made a sympathetic noise. "Yeah...I know how that feels. But apparently sixteen is "too young" to be carrying that kind of responsibility on your shoulders. So. I dunno, take it easy on yourself, I guess?"
Keira rested her head on Jak’s shoulder with a soft hmph, and noted with some amusement that she could *hear* how fast his heart was beating. Lucky for them Jak had already been in battle that day, clearing out the last metalheads, and had no more eco to react to the adrenaline. Dark Jak was much more snuggly than regular Jak, and much denser in mass, which made it fairly problematic if he happened to doze off while resting against her.
“Kee, I-”
Jak swallowed hard.
“I have to- we need- Mountain Clan is going to join the Wasteland Federation. You- everyone is going to have to get used to a new set of laws. A new. A new king.”
Keira winced. She'd had enough of overbearing authority figures.
“It's going to be…interesting,” she said begrudgingly.
“I have to report to him.” Jak sounded like he was trying to sound her out, gauge her reaction.
“I was going to call him tonight, actually. I just…I guess, don't freak out if he…when he gets here.”
Here? Keira sat up to look Jak in the eye.
“This king person is coming here?”
The buzz of the crickets down the slope seemed to rise, drowning out her thoughts. In a way, she'd known it had to be coming. Jak and Daxter wouldn't have been so insistent on evacuation if there wasn't actually a war coming. It just hadn't felt real.
She looked down at the tents and rudimentary huts their people -- Precursors, she had people now -- had spent the last two days setting up along the hill. So many people who couldn't fight, or wouldn't. If the Wastelanders really were a warrior people, would this king even accept them?
“He has to, Keira. Even if Haven hadn't-” Jak tensed, and a low anger rippled below his words. “Even if they hadn't tried to assassinate him, Damas would still have to come out here. He's the current head of the Federation, and all clans have to send representatives when someone threatens the whole.”
Leave it to Jak to speak of someone with that much power as casually as he spoke about Daxter.
“You all just call him by his name?”
Jak shrugged, and the grin he offered was a little sheepish. “Not to his face. Unless you're me, or Sig. Daxter could, he just likes to call him Spikes or King Lunatic instead. Damas doesn't mind.”
“Spikes?” Keira felt her eyebrows go up. "King Lunatic?!"
“You'll see when he gets here.”
Jak was entirely too calm about that. Keira grimaced, but reasoned that if he was more relaxed now than he was when talking about Ashelin or Samos, that had to be a promising sign, right?
“He um. He sounds…tough,” the girl said, gingerly searching for words. “Is…Is he-”
Keira gave up beating about the bush and decided to just ask the question honestly.
“Jak, you talk about him like you actually trust him. Do you?”
“With my life,” Jak answered, simply and openly.
“And I'd trust him with all of those people down there, more importantly. I'd trust him with Daxter’s life. With yours.”
What could she say to that? Even when they'd been little kids, when they had foolishly trusted Samos to have their best interests at heart, Jak hadn't trusted him around Daxter. And after the…the prison, Daxter was probably the only person Jak truly trusted. For some warrior king of a nation of Sigs to have earned Jak's faith so completely was hard to believe. Almost as hard to take as the respect in Jak’s voice when he so much as mentioned this man.
Who was this King Damas, and what had he done to make Jak of all people so devoted to him and his cause? And more importantly in Keira's mind, did he deserve Jak's loyalty?
“You look up to this guy,” she realized.
And Jak laughed. He rubbed the back of his neck, and looked embarrassed, and laughed.
“Yeah…I mean, I…yeah…he's kind of my hero.”
He covered his face abruptly as his ears burned scarlet.
“Don't you dare tell him I said that.”
“Oh right, because I'd totally get a chance to have a casual conversation with a king and squeal on you.” Keira rolled her eyes.
“If he's as cool as you think he is, maybe he already knows, anyway.”
“No!” Jak groaned, “Don't say that, I have an image to keep up!”
Keira cracked a smile and settled her head back onto Jak’s shoulder. His arm slipped around her waist, and she felt his cheek rest against her hair. An innocent closeness neither of them had felt in too many years, shared for a moment at the beginning of something new and a little frightening.
“When do you think your king will get here?”
Jak grinned into Keira's hair. She'd stopped calling Damas “this king”. The simple acknowledgement of how important he was to Jak felt a lot more validating than he'd anticipated.
“If I call him tonight, I'd say tomorrow evening at the latest. It's only about five hours from here to home by air train.”
Considering the commotion at dawn, when some hut building efforts were abandoned in favor of clearing a landing strip, Keira had her suspicions that the Wastelanders were already on their way before Jak ever placed that hushed and enthusiastic call.
“Clear the field!” Grim waved his arms wildly, scattering refugees into tents and back onto the rope bridge the Babak had built into the temple. “Make some room, everybody!”
Jak was out of his tent with Daxter on his shoulder before the craft had even begun its final approach. He darted to the edge of the makeshift runway and just waited. Brutter opened the door of his hut with a surprised croak, and Tess was already loosening her gun in her holster. Just in case.
There was a pit in Keira's stomach as she joined the people watching the air train land. This was it. Judgement Day.
Out of the air train seven heavily armored Wastelanders practically sauntered, six taking guard positions in a semicircle while the seventh strolled right up to where Jak stood ramrod straight.
It was unnatural, seeing Jak like that. Even more so seeing Daxter in the same attentive posture on his shoulder. Keira watched them nervously for cues.
Jak spoke about the leader of the Wastelander Federation like he was this great hero. Like he idolized the man. Keira suspected she'd get a better read on this new authority figure by observing how he spoke to the boys -- if he spoke to them directly at all.
The king of the desert was an imposing man wielding an elaborate staff. He didn't look like the type to suffer fools gladly. Keira watched his eyes sweep across the huts and lean-tos covering the slopes leading to the temple. They had already constructed fifteen small houses in the style of Sandover Village, and Vin and Keira had just finished setting up a basic eco grid for power. Was it good enough?
"By the forges boys!" The Wasteland king suddenly laughed aloud. "When you said you could find allies in the city, I thought you meant five or six, not an entire village!"
He clapped a hand to Jak’s unoccupied shoulder in a gesture Keira recognized -- with her share of bittersweet longing -- as pride.
"Welcome to Mountain Clan, sir," Jak answered, just as proud.
So. Jak wasn't exaggerating his admiration for this man. Not that Keira had thought he would. Jak wasn't prone to exaggeration and hyperbole. And while he still stood smartly at attention, if Keira looked closely she could see her friend practically vibrating with excitement. He behaved like a soldier -- the soldier Haven always wanted but could never have -- and yet at the same time he reminded Keira of nothing as much as a little boy whose parent had finally come home from a long journey.
That thought stuck in her mind as Brutter and Tess approached.
To her shock -- and the shock of the boys -- the Babak let out a jubilant cry when he recognized the man in armor.
"Brother Damas!" he trumpeted, catching the attention of the other Lurkers helping in the new village.
"Brother Damas lives! Our hearts are full!"
Damas looked taken aback for a moment, then a smile creased his weatherbeaten face and he reached out to clasp Brutter's forearm.
"You-! I remember you! It's been a long time, Bluefeather."
"Too long," Brutter croaked.
"Are your people safe?" Damas frowned. "I'm- I'm sorry. One operative wasn't enough to help free them. It was a poor repayment for the way you supported my family during the coup."
Sadly, the Babak leader shook his head. "We Lurkers were not saving your friends, Brother. We could not stop the executing after you exiled. Always my elders feel they failed you."
Damas squeezed the Lurker's thick forearm with an earnest expression. "You failed no one, Brother. Welcome to the Federation."
Beside them, Jak's face went from confusion to wonder to a barely restrained glee. Damas had organized the abolition efforts? That meant Jak had been working for Damas long before he ever heard the man's name! He exchanged excited looks with Daxter. This went beyond best case scenario for them. Their honorary tribe and their adopted people were now united.
"Now then!" Damas turned on his heel to raise an amused eyebrow at Jak.
"I've been getting extremely detailed reports from you, Captain. Come! Walk me through what you're doing up here!"
Jak practically scrambled to follow him, an almost silly grin stamped across his face. It made Keira's heart ache to realize she hadn't seen that smile since Sandover. Brutter broke into her thoughts with a gurgling chuckle.
"Once king, always king," he said fondly. "Brutter did not know he had offspring! Jak is very good son. Very loyal."
Keira jolted. "Offspring?! What do you mean?!"
Brutter looked confused, as though he thought his observation was obvious.
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Snippets: Free Day Thursday
Adopted Dadmas: Dadmas versus Haven
The red light was blinking on Jak’s talk-box again. Damas was no fool, he knew that meant someone was spying through the floating comm -- or attempting to. Doubtless, the eavesdropper thought they were being very subtle, keeping silent whenever adults were present. As if they believed Jak would keep their presence a secret. As if they believed he would never tell.
Damas tore a circle of flatbread into pieces and used them to scoop a mixture of cooked peppers onto his plate. He pretended not to notice the talk-box hovering next to Jak’s elbow in a terrible attempt at stealth, instead choosing to engage Daxter in a conversation. He was determined to get the kid apprenticed to the head of the merchant guild one way or another. Daxter had a head for business and trade that Jak, simply put, did not. He nodded along when his friend talked, but privately Damas thought it would do Daxter good to be around adults who could encourage his interests.
Periodically, Jak cast swift glances at his talk-box during the meal. He seemed like he was expecting someone to speak at any moment -- or more like he was expecting orders of some kind. His shoulders were tense, and he was shoveling down food much too quickly, like he thought he wasn't going to have time to finish it.
"Slow down, young one. The shrimp isn't going anywhere, and neither are you," Damas admonished.
Jak didn't slow down much, but he did start chewing a little more thoroughly. Small victories. Still, he looked tired, and on-edge. Had Ashelin or the sage been badgering him again when no one was around?
The initial idea had been to lay a trap. To feign ignorance and bait the spy into speaking aloud, thus forcing Unpleasant Diplomatic Discussions with Haven's motley assortment of would-be leaders. But just now, Damas decided, the health and wellbeing of his son took precedence over strategy. And he still had the element of surprise, anyway.
"Talk-boxes off at the table, Jak," he announced, gesturing directly to the lens watching them, "This is a meal, not a media interview."
The boy flinched and looked guilty. He had no reason to; he'd been open with Damas about the demands for labor since he first returned from Haven. But then, he'd been groomed from such a young age to believe that bad things happened because he didn't work hard enough for his "friends". Perhaps he still feared retaliation for establishing healthy boundaries? Better to confront the issue head-on then, Damas decided.
"If your uninvited watcher has an emergency, they are free to petition me directly," he said, leveling a stern glare at the talk-box. "On their own time, not yours. Come on, switch it off."
Someone made a muffled sound, barely picked up by the talk-box's speaker. It seemed they were not expecting to be so casually acknowledged.
"Jak-!" the watcher tried to protest, but Jak reached for the power button.
"Right. Sorry, Pa."
Once the light had faded from the little camera, Damas nodded, satisfied. He picked up a shallow bowl with tomango in it and held it out to Jak.
"Here. You need the vitamins."
Begrudgingly, Jak took two slices, then a third when Daxter gave him The Look across the table.
The ottsel cleared his throat meaningfully.
"Pal, you gotta get better at telling those people no. They can't hurtcha!"
Jak hunched over his plate, frowning.
"I know," he muttered sullenly. "I- I do know that, okay? They just don't listen!"
Daxter sighed and his ears drooped. "Yeah...I know. Old Greenstuff only hears what he wants to hear. Always has."
With a frustrated groan, Jak rubbed his eyes. "After everything he's done, I shouldn't be having trouble cutting Samos off. Why do I keep going back?!"
"He's familiar," Daxter admitted, and not without a touch of loathing. "He was all we knew for like, our whole lives. I hate him -- I'll always hate him -- but I get being afraid to lose that last connection to Sandover."
"....yeah." Jak winced. "I um...I think you're right. It's just. It's hard."
"I know, pal."
"And he knows I have two artifacts that go with those weird pillars in the forest!" Jak continued, "What do I do when he starts asking why I haven't brought them?"
"You end the call," Damas interrupted firmly, "or you give the line to an older Wastelander. Collecting those relics serves the interests of our people, and our people will be working in teams to locate them."
Perhaps this was Jak’s fight as much as anyone else's -- this Daystar and its coming threat -- but Damas was reluctant to involve him. Wasn't losing one son bad enough? He'd never survive losing a second one!
Besides, even someone as talented at sneaking into hidden places as Jak couldn't infiltrate places locked by the Seal of Mar. Whatever the Grand Council of Haven wanted with the catacombs, it was a matter for Damas to deal with, not the boys.
Jak picked at his tomango slices almost glumly. Whether it was his own struggles with setting boundaries that bothered him, or Damas’s advice for dealing with future calls, no one knew. But Daxter and Damas both knew that Jak wouldn't keep it bottled up for long. Sure enough, after a couple minutes of mangling his food without eating it, Jak finally looked up.
"You didn't tell me you were sending other people to look for the relics I told you about."
It was almost a question and almost a complaint.
"No, I didn't," Damas acknowledged, and sipped his tea. "The topic hadn't come up between us yet. Is there something about it that concerns you?"
Jak had difficulty putting his thoughts into words. He started and stopped three times before muttering, "It's dangerous. What if someone gets hurt and I'm not there?"
"What if someone doesn't get hurt and you're not there?" Damas countered. He leaned an elbow on the table and gestured to himself almost self-deprecatingly. "Age does not grace the Spargan who is careless, nor are many years added to the foolish. Do not worry so much about people who were hunting metalheads for sport before you were even born, son."
"Admittedly," said Daxter, "We're still getting used to the concepts of adults who can actually fight their own battles. Am I complaining? Only when they decide it's "Take Your Ottsel To Work Day". But even I still go into jobs expecting to have to save everyone's butts at some point."
"Justified with the monks." Jak pointed a piece of tomango at his best friend.
"Yeah, justified with Mime Club."
Damas threaded his fingers together under his chin and watched the boys a moment.
"How about this," he offered, "If an artifact is located but not yet retrieved, I will give you the option of participating in the mission. Or, you can wait until everything has been gathered, and we will go to the pillars together."
For a moment, Jak brightened. Then he looked pensive again. "What if there's trouble? I mean. I was never really- I never claimed Haven, but they act like I belonged to them. What if me bringing another nation into their forest makes trouble for Spargus?"
"Hmph. Perhaps it is better to settle this now, rather than engage in hypotheticals."
Damas held out one hand.
"Give me your talk-box."
Jak narrowed his eyes. "What are you going to do?"
"Not your concern."
"Papá...." somehow Jak managed to sound both suspicious and scolding.
Damas remained unmoved. "Hand it over, boy."
Reluctantly, Jak did so. He cringed when the device powered on, and Keira's voice poured out.
"Jak? Are you okay? Daddy came in fussing about someone interfering with- you're not Jak! Where's my friend?!"
By the mortified expression on his son's face, Damas guessed this was the sage's daughter. The childhood friend Jak still sort of had a crush on.
"Tell your father to stop harassing my son," Damas said shortly. "Especially during hours set aside for family meals. Was he raised in a barn? In fact, ask him that for me."
"Pa, no!" Jak hissed, making a futile grab for the talk-box.
"Your son?! Who are you? Who- hey, Daddy, c'mere. You know this guy? He says he's Jak’s dad!" Keira became muffled for a moment, stepping away from her own device to drag her father over. "Why's this guy think you're harassing Jak? We've only called him twice since he left. Right?"
"Insisting he keeps his comm on at all times so that you can all monitor every moment of his day is not an acceptable use of Federation communication lines," Damas cut in. "I shouldn't have to tell you that spying on the nation of Spargus in such a way could be taken as an act of war."
"This-! This is bigger than Haven or the Wastelands!" Samos sounded flustered- even a bit nervous. "Surely you understand the claim destiny has upon Ja-"
Damas made a dismissive sound in his throat, cutting the sage off. "Pah. Destiny. I should think the recent Praxis regime and my own continued existence would be enough to call concepts such as destiny into question. As it stands, my claim on Jak supersedes "destiny" -- or more accurately, you."
"The fate of the planet hangs in the balance!" Samos cried, though somewhat subdued compared to his usual confidence. "Can't you see that?! Don't be so bullheaded, Jak is needed-"
Jak recognized the glint in the king’s eyes as mischief. Daxter looked a little too eager to see where this was going. Jak resisted the urge to cover his face in embarrassment. Why and oh why did Keira have to be the one to answer the line?!
"Oh? Are you planning to challenge me for custody of my son?" Damas bared his teeth in an unfriendly smile. "Please, by all means! The Arena is ready whenever you are."
"Pa!" Jak gripped the sides of his head and stared at the man. "Not in front of Keira!"
"Look, old man-" Damas ignored Daxter's delighted cackle. "This planet will survive through united efforts, not by sitting back and hoping one boy alone will get the job done. Now, if Haven wishes to negotiate a temporary alliance to get this done sooner, there is no one stopping them from requesting a meeting with the Wasteland Federation. In the meantime, the Federation intends to continue preventing the apocalypse with or without your participation."
"You are?" Keira cut in over her father again, sounding genuinely curious. "You mean there's more people who can get into ruins?"
Jak got up and moved to the head of the table. Damas moved the talk-box out of his reach preemptively, but Jak made no move to grab it.
"That's their whole thing, turns out. You know Krew? Yeah, everything he sold you, he bought from Wastelanders. Even the defunct power cells."
The slightly warped image of Keira on the screen flickered as she leaned closer.
"Seriously?! I could've cut out the middleman and just worked with them all this time?! Ughhhhh. Hindsight is 20/20 I guess. You want to show them my research from the palace library?"
Behind her, Samos jumped. "The what?! Keira, the library was destroyed with the rest of the palace!"
"The building collapsed, sure," Keira retorted, "But the data cores are still mostly intact in there. If you don’t mind crawling through some tight places and bringing lots of Scout Flies, it's a cinch to get the files for Vin."
Samos looked apoplectic. "Keira! That's far too dangerous for you!"
His daughter rolled her eyes. "What? Jak and Daxter can do it but I can't? Don't you trust me?"
Damas stifled a chuckle and elbowed Jak. "I like this one," he whispered. "Invite her to Spargus sometime."
Jak wished the floor would swallow him.
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