Smile Again Donghae Eng Sub Ep91

Brainstorm Once more (Marcus Expressway x f!Reader)

Inspo: Brainstorm Again by Adam Melchor

Summary: Dating apps never pair you with the right people. Until you come across the profile of a handsome, pancake loving FBI agent named Marcus.

W/C: iv.8k

Warnings: lots of talk of food, language, late night deep conversations, some sadness at the end but nothing intense? reader has a pet true cat, is that worth a warning? idk

A/N: HI GUYS this is my first full length Marcus Thruway fic! I actually promise yous like it!! thank you lot so much to @theteddylupinexperience and @sanchosammy for being my all-time editors and proofreaders and idea givers!!!

note: PLS listen to the song before/after/while reading! it'southward one of my favs and information technology actually goes forth with the story

Over the class of your developed years, you lot've go convinced that dating apps are consummate and utter bullshit. The algorithms never work right, never pair you or any of your friends with anyone worth seeing in person. Peradventure that's merely the trouble; maybe it's non the apps but the people. Whatever the respond is, whatsoever reason you've never found success in the endless swiping, you're through with it.

That was before last week. The rainy Tuesday night left you in your apartment, alone, to succumb to the cold jump dreariness. Over a cup of hot tea, you'd downloaded the app again. Might every bit well try, right? Yous have goose egg to lose. If worst comes to worst, catfishing an annoying guy is e'er a nail. The good news is that this app requires you equally the adult female to make the first move. That'south kind of a downside- you never know how to start conversations- only at least you tin can't get unsolicited dick pics correct off the bats. Life is full of tradeoffs, you suppose.

Y'all brainstorm once more. The app becomes your favorite pastime. Bored at piece of work or home? Dating app it is. Left. Left. Left. Boring homo subsequently dull human being. One labeled himself super-straight: absolutely fucking not. One holding a fish: nope. A man who describes himself as a gym rat: not your type. It's a boring way to spend your lunch intermission, yous're aware, but the entertainment value is fun if nothing else. There are a lot of foreign men out there.

After a few days, your luck seems to turn effectually every bit the photo of a human being with brown hair and warm brown eyes pops upwards on your screen. He has a scruffy bristles and wavy hair, and the mode his smiling tugs at the corner of his lips makes your heart flutter. He's really cute, you have to admit. Yous read the bio side by side.

Marcus, 35

❗️ Washington, D.C.

Got forced into making this, but optimistic. Lover of art, dogs, and time to relax. Ever down for breakfast for dinner and cuddling. Looking for someone with a sense of independence, dear of travel, and a sleep schedule equally fucked upward as mine. Must dear pancakes.

Must love pancakes. That's admittedly ambrosial. You immediately recollect of your cat, named Pancake, and you laugh and swipe right, hoping the homo already thought the same of you. Your eyes widen with excitement and you well-nigh laugh out loud from your dizzy land when you run across the piddling logo indicating it's a match.

The start message yous send him has to be perfect. You lot ponder your options for a infinitesimal, frowning and furrowing your forehead equally you think. You lot don't want to come on too strong; yous're non trying to sound like y'all want a hookup. A unproblematic i-word greeting wouldn't be enough.

You could comment on something from his bio, you realize as you read it again and again. Maybe ask him about his domestic dog? No, that'south too awkward. You lot want information technology to be near him, something that tin can draw him in. Talk nigh traveling? No, you don't want to sound like you're bragging nigh the places you've gone in your life.

Pancakes. Pancakes are good. Y'all love pancakes. Yous remember for a second more, debating what to say, earlier inspiration strikes and you send off the message before you can stop yourself.

-

Marcus Thruway has essentially felt the aforementioned as you. He'southward a somewhat mannerly man. He'southward had his fair share of relationships, but they never quite work out. His ex-wife, at present long gone and blocked from his phone, was an absolute failure of a relationship. He'd gotten shut to what felt like true love with Teresa, some other FBI amanuensis, but she flaked at the concluding second.

Maybe the constant here was that he met them in person. When Marcus falls, he falls hard and fast, down an endless spiral of emotions with no escape. Mayhap if he met someone online, it would be different. His best friends had all encouraged information technology, and on a dark out not long after Teresa left him, State highway set up his own profile. He liked that the app didn't require him to brand the offset motion. Information technology'due south refreshing.

Marcus had seen your contour hours ago, on a mindless telephone suspension from his work. He'd swiped right too, stunned by your smile and the lovelines you lot radiated even through the phone. He crossed his fingers for a good part of the day, hoping y'all'd swipe right on him too.

His 24-hour interval is busy, leaving him no time to dabble with his telephone and distract himself. He eats in the cafeteria, checking upwards on his phone. After lunch, he's walking back to his office when his heart flutters every bit he sees the dating app indicates he's had a friction match. He looks at it and swallows hard earlier stopping, moving to the side of the hallway to let others to pass. He's breathing hard, and his heart speeds up when he sees that you lot are the 1 that matched with him.

He knows how this app works. He has to wait now, to let y'all make the kickoff move. He can't even write a bulletin until you lot send ane. So he pockets his phone again and continues on his walk.

He'south adamant on his walk, rushing back to his desk and then he tin sit down and be thoroughly enthralled in waiting for or receiving your response. His phone buzzes several times with notifications, ane of which he prays is you lot. When he finally sits, he opens the app ceremoniously and has to hold dorsum a genuine laugh when he sees your first message.

Blueberry or chocolate chip?

Marcus shoots back a text virtually immediately. Sorry, what?

Your bio. "Must beloved pancakes". Blueberry or chocolate scrap?

Marcus is absolutely effulgent as he leans back in his chair, crossing his legs. Blueberry. Always. I hope that's the right answer :)

Unfortunately, it's non, but you're cute and then I'll let information technology slide

You called him beautiful. It makes Marcus'south heart flutter. Come on. There's zero like the warm blueberry popping in your oral cavity.

There is. It'due south when the chocolate fries are all melty and flossy.

God, Marcus is already painfully into you. You lot know what… at to the lowest degree y'all dear pancakes. I'll let it slide. You got a favorite place?

Anywhere I can get 'em. You seem like quite the connoisseur, do you have one identify in mind?

Jane slams down a stack of files on Marcus'due south desk. "Paperwork overflow, Pike. Tin you get these done tonight?"

Marcus is the fastest in the role with paperwork, which often leads to him being the one that flies through the files in the place of the people who really filed it. He nods. What else is at that place to do? "Certain."

Jane claps him on the shoulder and wanders off. Marcus watches him in slight annoyance. The best identify in D.C. is definitely Sandy'southward. Hey I gotta go, text ya after?

I'd love that :)

-

It didn't have long for your texting to move from the dating app to bodily texting. Information technology happened inside the aforementioned day, in fact.

Marcus messaged you some hours after the initial chat. Your phone buzzed while yous were doing yoga in your apartment, your cat curled into a ball beneath your stomach as you held a downward dog. Y'all nearly collapsed on elevation of Pancake equally you fumbled to sit down cross-legged on the end of your yoga mat.

The bulletin from Marcus is vivid on the top of your screen. Hi. Sorry that took and so long. Work stuff.

Smile, y'all take a swig from your h2o canteen and lean dorsum against your couch. Not a trouble. Understandable. What exercise yous exercise for a living? It's a loaded question in D.C.; they could range anywhere from politicians to their rich sons to artists and athletes.

I work for the FBI, actually.

Your eyes light up in excitement. That'southward the coolest shit I've heard. What do you do? Are you an amanuensis?

The human's responses don't take long at all. He must be waiting in the chat to respond. The idea makes your eye palpitate. Yep, I'm an agent. I piece of work in international art crimes.

You lot certainly didn't expect that for an answer. Wow, okay, that'due south fifty-fifty cooler than I thought. I was about to call you lot Amanuensis Pancake only I remember my daughter would exist disheartened...

Snapping a photo of the manner Pancake is nuzzling into your side, meowing for snuggles, yous accept to express mirth as you transport the photograph his way. Funny yous love pancakes so much. This little muppet is named Pancake.

Marcus responds with a avalanche of center-eyes emojis, which makes you express mirth aloud and scoop Pancake into your lap, stroking her strawberry-blonde fluff. She's an absolute angel. Like her mother, I'one thousand presuming.

Your cheeks flood with warmth and you can feel the tips of your ears turning hot too. Yous've never fifty-fifty met me, Agent…? You trail off the text, asking for his final name.

State highway.

Amanuensis Marcus Pike. What a nice sounding name. It sounds official and strong and yous really like it. Cute terminal name. Might steal information technology from ya someday ;)

You don't normally flirt this shamelessly, merely he'south then goddamn beautiful and funny. You cross your fingers backside your back that this isn't just a facade, that this is Marcus himself texting similar he would to anyone else. You lot got a phone number?

Every bit you laugh, Pancake paws at your chest to grab your attention, nails nearly digging into the stretchy fabric of your yoga tank top. "Spotter information technology," you scold her softly and remove her hand from your chest, picking her upward and giving her a buss on the caput. Sure practice. You want it?

Aye please.

You transport your number his way and moments later, your telephone pings with a text from an unlabeled number.

Peradventure: Freeway: hey, it'south Pike :)

Yous: hey… dammit, I actually want to call you Agent Pancakes, but I recall my fluffy little infidel would exist offended. I don't know what to salve you lot in my phone equally...

Agent Pancakes: Save me every bit whatever, I suppose. Not my problem, correct?

-

The texts became more frequent. Over the course of three weeks, you'd stay up late talking like teenagers, knowing you need to become to bed simply unable to bring yourself to exercise information technology.

You lot learned that his middle proper noun was Mauricio, that his mother wanted him to have at to the lowest degree something a trivial more Latino in his name. You lot told him the story of how you'd adopted Pancake every bit a kitten from a shelter and she woke you lot up i morning with her claws entwined in a snarl of your pilus. He told you virtually his ex-married woman and ex-fiancée, Teresa, and yous responded that he deserved something better than that. You can already tell that he's a skillful human being.

At the end of three weeks, y'all shot Marcus a text. Things seemed to be going pretty well.

Yous: Hey, y'all desire to do a video call sometime soon?

Agent Pancakes: I'd love that! I'm gratuitous tonight if you are.

You: Always costless. Shouldn't you know that?? Doesn't the FBI spy on u.s. through our phones and whatever?

Agent Pancakes: well, I do work in art crimes. Even if we did, it would be a totally different thing

You: Adept.

An hr later on, you fidget with your hands as you sit on your couch, the laptop propped upwardly beyond from you and ringing for a video chat. Marcus's profile movie bobs on the screen every bit you wait for him to pick up.

Marcus's face and apartment fills your screen, and you automatically grin. "Hi," you giggle and wave, absolutely enraptured past how cute his real smile is, not the forced 1 in the photos.

"Hey. Nice to kind of-finally meet you," he tells you and waves back. The wall of his flat is zero exciting, simply his facial expressions already take y'all falling. Those big brown eyes compliment natural simply ridiculously pink lips, and his chocolate-brown hair is neatly done. It looks like he's wearing a tie and a wearing apparel shirt; probably his work gear, y'all suppose.

"Yous too!" You tell him, unable to cease smiling. "Yous shaved."

-

Marcus's eye jumps out of his chest when he sees you ringing him. He barely has time to flop on the couch and turn it on, propping up the photographic camera across from him.

God, you're so gorgeous. Your giggle is infectious, making Marcus express mirth softly at god knows what. Your grin is equally every bit contagious, making him smile back. He rubs his jaw in response. "Yep, yeah. I tend to go on it clean there. Stubble takes too much maintenance, and I have this little patch where it never quite grows," he tells you equally he juts his chin to the camera, touching the spot where his beard can't abound.

"I like information technology either style," y'all assure him, shrugging a lilliputian. "How was your day, Agent Pancakes?" Your voice is the most beautiful thing he's always heard, even with the granulated audio over this shitty app. Agent Pancakes makes his heart palpitate. "No, non you!" Y'all groan as Pancake climbs onto your lap. "Hullo. Your twin wants to say hi."

Marcus's smile widens. "Oh my god, hello cutie pie," he chuckles, launching into babe talk. "What a pretty girl. You lot make a good Pancake."

You smile and rub her fur, grin. "She'south my baby," you chuckle and set her aside. "Yep. I'm decorated. Exit me alone." Pancake meows in protest. "Close up, I'm on a engagement," yous whine.

Marcus'southward ears perk up. "This is a date?"

Your eyes widen equally you plough dorsum to him. "I… yep?" You inquire, wincing a little.

He grins back at you lot. "I like it. And I'm really in dear with the idea of seeing your face up when you talk."

"I like your vocalization," y'all flirt back, but yous mean it. "It's so pretty. Do you sing?" You ask mindlessly, studying the mode his forehead furrows and his eyes convey exactly what he's thinking.

He chuckles softly. "I used to. I haven't in a long long time."

"You'll have to sing for me sometime."

When he shakes his head, his neatly gelled pilus tries to break free. A strand does, falling in his face. "You lot don't wanna hear it, I promise." He removes his tie, and you tin can't help simply watch the movement. Information technology's incredibly sexy.

A mischievous smile makes you bite the inside of your cheek. "No, I really practise, I really retrieve I do."

Marcus rolls his eyes. "Only if you attempt the pancakes at Sandy'due south onetime. I hope yous, they're the all-time pancakes in the District. I've never had the chocolate chip pancakes, only if they're anywhere near as skilful as the blueberry, they're fantastic. And they're open 24 hours. I get at that place a lot for late night case work."

You smile at that, getting cozy on your burrow and hugging your coating. "That does sound nice. I dearest a good all 24-hour interval breakfast," you say with raised eyebrows, the teasing in your voice. "Okay, human being Pancakes. How was your twenty-four hour period?" Yous ask him again, intent on hearing his answer. Not merely is his job fascinating, just he's ambrosial when he explains things.

Marcus frowns, and that makes you lot instinctively frown too. "Well, it's been proficient. We're tracking a huge smuggling ring right now, but since we've pinpointed a stock house for them, I might have to travel for a while."

You pout. You'd been hoping yous could accept a existent date soon, at least. "How long is a while?" You enquire him curiously, sipping from your h2o canteen that sits adjacent to you lot.

"Couple weeks. No less than a month, probably. I'd… well, I might have to go undercover, which means we couldn't talk for a while." His eyes are atoning, showing that he hates this news as much as you do. "And… I'd go out maybe tomorrow or the mean solar day after."

Your center sinks. "And so soon," you lot say with a sad smiling, a drastic and lonely chuckle. "Well, if y'all want to come dwelling to me, I'll be here."

Marcus'due south smile perks up merely slightly. "You would exist the all-time affair in the world to come domicile to. And I'll have the scruff dorsum by and so."

"Yes!" You lot exclaim and express mirth, pumping a fist in the air. "I think you're really cute anyway, but I actually beloved the scruff," y'all shrug shyly.

"Maybe I'll abound it out just for you."

-

The adrenaline from his showtime technical-date with you prevents Marcus from sleeping. The telephone call lasted hours, the two of you covering almost everything important in your lives. You talked almost your favorite idiot box programs and politics, your parents and your favorite pizza toppings. Talking with him was like zip you'd ever experience, a connectedness yous'd never thought a dating app could offer.

After several hours, during a lull in the conversation, Marcus suggested the two of you log off. It was effectually 11 P.M. now, and, even though Marcus has a sleep schedule like a raccoon, he figured you should slumber. He blew y'all a kiss through the camera, which you pretended to concord to your chest and grin at him.

But at present it's an 60 minutes later, just past midnight, and Marcus is fidgety. He doesn't sleep much anyway, simply your face up is running through his mind like it owns the place, and at this point, maybe you do. Marcus sits up in bed and sighs. He knows the proper remedy for this: Sandy's. Throwing on a rare pair of jeans and a leather jacket over the white 5-neck he wears, he slips on his shoes and makes his fashion to the tiny, 24-hour diner.

-

The adrenaline is coursing through your veins besides. You lot text whatsoever of your friends that will listen, rambling virtually how cute Marcus's face up is and how wonderful information technology was to finally hear his vocalisation. You step your apartment, petting Pancake as you pass her perch on the arm of your couch. You endeavor to do a footling yoga to at-home down but you lot tin't terminate smiling. Marcus occupies besides much room in your brain to try to call back nearly annihilation else.

When it's simply after midnight, hunger strikes. Yous realize you never ate dinner, too preoccupied with talking to the handsome homo to fifty-fifty consider microwaving something from your fridge. Talking with Marcus has instilled you with a beloved for pancakes, and you recall to yourself that possibly Sandy'due south would be worth a shot. It'south open late.

And so you toss on a jacket and pick up your purse, slinging information technology over your shoulder and leaving your apartment. You lot toss the volume you've been reading into your handbag, planning to read it while you sit and eat. Pancake gives a sleepy meow of protest but you simply smile and lock the door behind you.

The diner is just every bit pocket-size every bit Marcus described information technology to you: only a short line of booths along the windows and a smattering of tables in the middle. There's a colorful, warm-toned tile flooring that juxtaposes the warm light-green of the walls and the scent of fresh coffee and pancakes wafting through the air. Tranquillity classic swing music filling the temper. You tin see why he likes information technology: it automatically makes you smile.

Y'all sit down in 1 of the booths, facing away from the door, and the kind waitress takes your order: chocolate chip pancakes and an English breakfast tea. The air conditioning is blasting, making you chilly. You lot tighten your jacket effectually yourself and sip the tea when it arrives, adding cream and carbohydrate.

Corking open the book, you cross your legs and lose yourself in the book. The restaurant has a calming aura, and you can feel the tea warming you from the inside. It's fitting that Marcus loves this identify, y'all think to yourself.

When the pancakes come not long later, yous take a bite and almost groan in happiness. It's absolutely delicious: Marcus was virtually definitely right. Disappointingly, you have to become to the bathroom about iii bites in.

Even the bathrooms are beautiful, you detect. When you return, someone else sits a berth away,  some other lone diner at this godforsaken hour of night, facing the door. Yous tin see the back of what appears to be a man's head, neatly trimmed brown hair and a brownish leather jacket over their neck and shoulders. Sitting back down, your back to the other customer's, you render to your book and continue to eat your chocolate fleck pancakes.

The customer and waitress are talking, just you don't pay much attention, too enraptured by your book. It's repose again after the human being puts in his order, and y'all relish the soft jazz music that makes you tap your foot in time against the tile.

In that location's a buzzing and the melodic audio of a phone's ringtone; 1 of the defaults that a telephone provides. Your middle skips a vanquish as you hear the man pick up. "Agent Motorway."

That tin't be your Agent State highway, tin it? You plough and listen and realize information technology'southward definitely him, from his voice and the way he holds himself and the stack of- of course, blueberry pancakes and a hot java fix in forepart of him.

"Yep. Yeah. Okay. Sounds good. Let me write that downwardly." Marcus types something into his phone. "Run into y'all then. At the office? Skillful. Alright, meet you." He hangs up.

Standing, you constrict your book back in your purse and put the pocketbook over your shoulder. With 1 hand, you take hold of your plate of pancakes, and the other grabs your tea. You lot fix them downwardly across from him and slide into the booth, grinning. "Huh. Amanuensis Pancakes, hither, in the eye of the dark. How unusual."

Marcus's tired face lights up in excitement. "What?" He laughs, his eyes scanning your face. "Why are y'all hither?"

You lot shrug and take a bite of his pancakes, sighing. "Had to see if they were worth the hype. I couldn't sleep, you got me so excited." The blueberry pancakes are absolutely fantastic, merely as practiced if not better than the chocolate scrap ones on your plate. "Damn, yous were right."

"Hey," he laughs and pulls his plate closer to his chest. "Don't touch my pancakes."

You brand pleading pouty eyes, frowning a petty. "Can't we share?" Y'all tease. It already feels like yous've known him for years, even though this is your first time seeing him in person.

Marcus sighs. "I suppose," he says and rolls his eyes in sarcasm, pushing his plate dorsum out and then y'all can access it.

-

Marcus is beyond stunned, absolutely enraptured in how cute you are in person. If he thought he fell on that video call earlier, he's now reached the very bottom of that cliff, the impact of your everything stealing the air from his lungs. God, he wants nothing more than to kiss y'all right now, on those lips coated in blueberry juice and maple syrup.

The two of yous spend quite some fourth dimension so at that place, only talking and continuing the conversation where information technology left off before. The waitress refills Marcus's coffee twice and your tea once. "And so who called you when you were sitting alone?" You enquire him as you bring the white porcelain mug to your lips, sipping at the creamy tea.

He sighs. "Guy I piece of work with, his proper name's Patrick. He's a douchebag, I tin can't lie," he says with a chuckle, and his heart flutters at the way y'all give a soft laugh dorsum. "Merely telling me the details. I go out in about 6 hours. I'll be in Singapore for a couple of weeks."

"Singapore?" You exclaim, optics broad equally your fork clanks against your plate. "You amend be able to contact me."

He shakes his head. "I told yous, I'm going undercover. I can't." He sighs, and he dares to reach out and touch you lot, to reassure you that he's there and himself that you're real, that you're right there. "Will you look for me?"

Your middle melts, from an already slush-covered river to a rushing rapids. "Of grade, Marcus." It makes his eye skip a beat. You've called him lots of nicknames, but never his real proper noun. Something is painfully intimate about it. "I like yous a lot; why wouldn't I?" You enquire, shrugging as if it's the simplest thing. "Distance makes the heart grow fonder."

When you finish your meals, Marcus picks upwards both tabs, despite your protesting. "Can I walk you to your place?" He asks as y'all both stand up and adjust your jackets.

You lot nod and take his paw. The lights of the urban center are seemingly extra dim tonight, leaving the street lights to illuminate your beautiful confront every bit the two of you lot stroll forth. Y'all take all the time in the world, don't you? Information technology's ane:xxx in the morning. You're both already evading sleep desperately. A little more time together can't injure.

His hand never leaves yours, his fingers lacing through your knuckles. You chat quietly, equally if you could wake the sleeping urban center from the peaceful blue drone of a weeknight morning into its daily splendor of horns and hordes of speedy pedestrians.

Marcus bumps your shoulder with his, making you stumble a little to the side and express joy as you look upwardly at his gorgeous face. His confront reflects the love you're both feeling, near giving the city effectually y'all a pink glaze of warmth from the rose-colored spectacles you must have placed over his eyes.

The walk draws to an end, as you stand at the archway to your apartment edifice. Marcus'south body looks so soft and inviting, and you lot dare to wrap your arms around his neck and hug him to your chest. "I don't want you to go, Agent Pancakes," yous murmur into the soft pare of his cervix, which is starting to get a shadow of stubble.

Marcus kisses the top of your head. He doesn't movement either, prolonging this time you lot have together before he can't come across yous. "I don't desire to go. I've never wanted to stay here more than than I do now, but I take to." His arms wrap around your waist, strong and safe.

Lifting your caput, y'all look upwards at him, your noses practically touching from the proximity you lot share. The world feels like a bubble around you two, like some impenetrable i-way material that makes information technology and then if Marcus leaves now, he can never come dorsum. "Well, it's gonna exist a long time, a month or two," you say with a sad smile. "We'll take to brainstorm again."

Marcus shakes his head, his brown eyes almost welling with tears. "There'south no one else I'd want to begin once more with." With that, he looks in your eyes, the question hanging there. Expect for me?

Always, you respond silently past pressing your lips to his, kissing him slowly in the orange glow of your flat edifice's archway. He kisses back, his lips tasting of java and maple and blueberry, yours tasting like chocolate and tea.

You squeeze your arms tighter around him, getting on your tiptoes to be as physically shut as you can to him. He has one hand on either side of your rib cage, holding you there equally he kisses back with all of the passion and love he has.

It tin can't terminal too long or he'll never leave. He won't be able to. He breaks away after a few moments, his lips shut to yours. He presses your foreheads together, artillery encircling you over again. "I have to become. I accept to be at the office in an 60 minutes."

Y'all lift your head and your brow furrows in confusion. "Then why did you take so long to walk and swallow with me?" You express mirth quietly.

Marcus shrugs. "Didn't desire to leave you nonetheless," he admits, his eyes trained on yours. He gives yous one concluding painfully gentle kiss. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you more," you say with a sad grinning. "You lot've been my distraction lately. Whenever I'm bored, I text y'all."

He sighs, the confession increasing his frown. "I'll be in an entirely new place, without you lot."

"Only I'll be hither, in my same old life without y'all in it."

The words punch a hole through Marcus'southward heart. It's truthful; he'll accept new distractions, new things to do. You'll be here with a Marcus Pike-shaped pigsty in your heart. He kisses your forehead, the wheels turning in his caput. "If yous get a call in the next few weeks from an unknown number, be certain to respond it, okay?"

You nod and smiling softly. "Y'all need to become. Become."

He nods and his manus squeezes yours. "I tin't wait to begin once more with you." With that, Marcus Pike, Agent Pancakes, any you want to call him, the man you're highly suspecting might be your soulmate, walks off into the slightly chilly D.C. night.

-

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