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Great.

Nathair crosses his arms and frowns at the stone throne with every fiber of sarcasm in his being.

Then he glances at the shadowy figure pacing.

Nathair approaches the figure and stabs him through the chest with a needle.

“Oops.” He smirks at the corpse before he walks up to the velvet throne and just starts stabbing the cushions.

Then he walks out the door whistling like the smart-aleck jerk he is.