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No man living under Hydra’s rule had anything but hair trimmed close to their skull. As Camilla tied the sheet about her partner’s shoulders she couldn’t help but mourn that the dark, silky mass of his long hair would soon be gone. However, Ryouma had asked her to do it- he’d trusted her, so she picked up the scissors and cut.




“No aphrodisiac like a good firefight, hm, darling?”

Ryouma felt Camilla’s hand wander against his thigh, distractingly, though not as distracting as the bullets currently riddling the drywall above their huddled forms.

“Let’s wait for the make-up sex until after we’ve taken those shooters out.”