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Updated: May 15, 2025
Lyad, beautifully wearing something which would have passed muster at the U-League's Annual Presidential Dinner in Ceyce, looked amused. It wasn't till the end of the second course that Trigger began to feel at ease again. After that she forgot, more or less, about the Beldon. The talk remained light during dinner.
"Well, well, that's too bad," sympathized the amused Judge. "Hector will have to pay for them, surely. Son, go get the money out of your bank." "I didn't eat all of them. Jimmy Jones and Ted Fenton and the Beldon boys helped," said Hector, wiping his eyes sullenly. "You can c'lect from them later," retorted Peace. "You were at the head of it, I know."
Prude again, she thought. "Nope," she said. "There are limits." He patted her cheek. "On you it would look cute." She shook her head, aware of a small fluster of guilt. There had been considerably less actual coverage in the Beldon costume than there was in the minute two-piece counterpart to Brule's silver trunks she wore at the moment.
A flat small green package, marked "The Styles of Beldon," slid out. A delicate scent came trailing along with it. A small white envelope clung to the package's top. Inside the envelope was a card. It read: "A peace offering. Would you wear it to dinner in token of forgiveness? Very humbly, Q." Trigger found herself smiling and wiped off the smile. Then she let it come back.
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