Sebastian's arms were about her, his fists pumping her stomach as she coughed forth saltwater from her belly and lungs. She looked at him confusedly, his black hair glinting under the dim lights. ‘While you are making me this interrogation, my poor Jacques bleeds to death. I’ll be waiting for you outside. “Do?” “Are you prepared to do things for us? Distribute bills? Write letters? Interrupt meetings? Canvass at elections? Face dangers?” “If I am satisfied—” “If we satisfy you?” “Then, if possible, I would like to go to prison.
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