Seneca recalled that last morning with Braun and Markus.
Markus
came to her shop first to restock replacement parts and jokingly
flirt. “Come on Senna. All those naps are a sham. I know you got
the energy to ride me like a-”
A dark paw whipped out and smacked the orange charr up the backside of his head. “Oww!”
Markus turned to see the Foreman behind him, sipping his usual
morning coffee. “Oh, hey Bossman.”
Braun cocked a brow at
him. “Shouldn't you be getting your toolbox in order,
Flintfist?”
Seneca chuckled to herself. Yes, those were the
good times.
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