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“Here. Tea.” Reagan hands me a steaming mug. One sip tells me it’s not just tea. “You spiked the drink of an injured person,” I state flatly, the alcohol burning in my throat. “Who does that?” “It’s better than what a lame horse gets,” — K A Tucker
Here. Tea.” Reagan hands me a steaming mug. One sip tells me it’s not just tea.
“You spiked the drink of an injured person,” I state flatly, the alcohol burning in my throat.
“Who does that?”
“It’s better than what a lame horse gets,