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Shrill whistles cut through the noise of the storm. Fights were common but the police had no fondness for dealing with dead miners. Time filling out papers could be better spent in the pub. The attack stopped long enough for Evan to suck in a shallow breath. His copper hair was plastered to his face and he was wet to his skin.. “You gotta work it in. Smooth it out,” Tom instructed. “That shit ain’t cheap.”.

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