She got up, as she had been told to do, at his appearance, and he amazed her by sitting down, according to custom, on her stool. Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits. “TROUSERS!” she whispered. ’ You mean you hope you do, thought Gerald cynically. Michelle shrugged her off. It is useless to talk. It is necessary.
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