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Author Topic: Throw me to the Lions  (Read 299 times)

Description: Tag: Samson

Offline Beckett Orval

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Throw me to the Lions
« on: Apr 07, 19, 09:58:39 PM »
As Beckett stood in front of the house that he would be living at for the foreseeable future, he wondered what the heck he had been thinking. It was a manor more than a house and he stared at it with wide eyes. He needed this job, though. It would be good experience, he would be able to help some kids who apparently needed it, and it allowed him to escape his father and brother.

His best friend, who worked in the stables, said that he would be good at this job, even though she had also told him how many other tutors and governesses the kids had run off. She told him a bit about their father as well before he interviewed for the position with one of the staff members. Beck wondered why these children were behaving like this, but Vianne was not able to give him any ideas. She only gave him their history: that their mother had died, father had apparently been injured, and now they were like this with the adults who were to oversee them.

If nothing else, Beckett intended to get to the bottom of it. He also had no intention of getting run off by them. How bad could they really be? Vianne had been somewhat cagey on the details of what they had done, so Beck figured that he would find out soon enough.

Since he did not have much space in his psychic cabinet, Beckett had to frustratingly haul a trunk with him of his belongings. It had been hastily packed and he sat on it in order to get it closed. If it were to break open, he was sure that his clothes would somehow fling themselves everywhere in an explosion of drab colors. With this in mind, Beckett rested it gently next to him on the porch, thankful that it at least had wheels on one end to make it easier to haul.

Taking a steadying breath, he knocked on the front door, which was quickly opened by a staff member. The man greeted him and then reached over to pull Beckett's trunk inside. Beck protested, but before he could grab the handle himself, a couple of blurs that were apparently children rushed past them, jostling them both. The butler dropped the handle and the trunk landed on its side and promptly flew open.

"Oh no!" Well at least there wasn't an explosion of drab colors, but as his clothes spilled out, it was clear that he had not actually folded or organized anything in the trunk. Beckett dove forward at the same time as the butler, causing them to knock their heads together. "Sorry--Oof!" Beckett landed on his backside and then immediately struggled to shove everything back into the trunk at once.

This was starting off well.

Offline Samson Graywarren

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Re: Throw me to the Lions
« Reply #1 on: Apr 08, 19, 05:47:27 PM »
There were crashes and screams and giggles and more crashes and a few shouts and a rather distinct thud that actually sounded a bit concerning. These sounds, Samson was beginning to understand, were now his daily life. The cacophony of his grounded state - put to some bizarre type of music. Or at least, that would be the way Samson might put it if he were any sort of poet.

He was not. And so, as he shoved himself to his feet and lumbered out of the den, heading toward the front hall where the sounds seemed to be congregating, he did not say 'what is this sub-melodic cacophony?' - he said, "What in the name of the Mother of Night is all this blasted noise?!" It was said with a rumbling growl and his eyes were sharply narrowed - though did not hold the lethal sort of anger one might expect from a Warlord Prince who shouted quite as often as he spoke, if not moreso.

The hall was a ramshackle mess - filled with bodies and... Samson looked down, then stooped and picked up a pair of light blue drawers. He looked at them, then to the young stranger cradling his head in his foyer - then to his butler (who was also holding his head as if it were in pain).

"Well, these clearly don't belong to Hamish, he doesn't believe in color," Samson snorted, only slightly less annoyed as he registered what must have happened and that both the men before him were injured. Another growl rumbled to his lips and he bellowed out a sharp order for "TEA. NOW." that was hastily obeyed by a flurry of uniformed staff.

While one young woman rushed off to see to the tea, two more members of the household staff surged forward to begin cleaning up the mess without needing to be told. No one tried to take the drawers from Prince Graywarren - though, of course, everyone noticed what he was holding as the large, grumbling Prince hoisted first Hamish to his feet, and then the stranger with a grip that was somehow gentle in its firmness. "Go sit. Two hours respite," he barked at the butler, then with a hand firmly holding one elbow and the be-drawered hand bracing the opposite arm, he directed the dazed stranger from the foyer back to the den. There, he did not tell the man to sit - but rather sat him down before taking his chin in that gentle-firm grip and lifting his face, turning it this way and that to inspect the point of impact.

"Do you feel ill? Dizzy?" he growled in question as he looked - his other hand still holding the poor man's underthings.

Offline Beckett Orval

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Re: Throw me to the Lions
« Reply #2 on: Apr 08, 19, 11:49:42 PM »
The new voice in the hallway immediately caught Beckett's attention and he looked up, letting his eyes slowly trail up the... Warlord Prince's body. Ah, this must be Samson, the father. It had to be. His mere presence almost distracted Beckett from what he was holding. Almost, but not quite. He felt his face flush, and he opened his mouth to try to reclaim his underwear, but no sound came out. Before he could try again, the sudden shout about tea startled him, causing him to jump, which in turn caused his head to throb.

Then, as Samson manhandled him to his feet and to a room, a different part of him throbbed. That was surprising enough that he just let himself be pushed down onto a chair. The sudden realization that he apparently didn't mind being bossed around by this particular man was enough to distract him that he didn't immediately process the question he was asked.

"I uh-" Beckett's brain kicked in and caught up. He did feel dizzy, but he doubted it had anything to do with the bump to his head. "No, I'm okay, I think." His eyes went to his underwear, still held in the Warlord Prince's hand. Well, at least they were a plain pair.

"I can um, take those from you if you want." His face turned even more red as he had to draw attention to them, but he really wanted nothing more than to vanish them and see them again never. Beckett was pretty sure that his face was just going to stay this color permanently. Maybe he could just grab his trunk and sneak back on out the front door and pretend none of this had ever happened. Vianne was never going to let him live this down when she found out.

Offline Samson Graywarren

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Re: Throw me to the Lions
« Reply #3 on: Apr 09, 19, 08:50:54 PM »
Other than the slight swelling on his forehead (right where he suspected the impact to have taken place), the younger man seemed alright. His eyes were focusing well enough and his pupils were okay. Still, he didn't like that there had been any sort of impact at all. That was why he had a strict rule against running. Or perhaps it wasn't so very strict as he liked to believe, considering his children were constantly still dashing here and there all over the place. Ironically enough, they rarely-to-never suffered any sort of injury at all, not even a scrape. Instead, it was the poor staff who suffered.

'I can um, take those from you if you want...'

Samson blinked away from his thoughts and released the man's face, leaning back and looking down at the particular article of clothing he was holding in his other hand. Prince Samson Graywarren was rarely embarrassed about anything - and this instance was no exception.

"Oh, yes," he said as he realized he was still holding onto them, "I suppose you wouldn't want me to keep them." Coming from just about any other person, such a line might have been flirtation - but Samson Graywarren did not flirt. He wouldn't know how or where to start even if the idea ever occurred to him, and really he'd had little use for it so far in his life. The arrangement and affection he'd had for his wife had been one matter - and for sexual relief he'd always been able to fine a willing participant, even (if not especially) out at sea. If he was in a particular sort there were also one or two Red Moon Houses that he had become familiar with over the years that catered to his tastes, as well. He had been a Warlord Prince his entire life, after all - and had decades to master his own sexuality.

So no, he wasn't flirting, and he handed the article of clothing back to him. "It's a nice color for you," he then complimented - which perhaps was a little odd and a little closer to flirting, not that the man himself was aware of it - before standing to fetch the tea that had just been brought into the room.

He poured each of them a cup and brought the other man his. "Drink," he ordered plainly. "Then you'll lie back for a while - here," he indicated the couch the man was sitting on, "-while I finish up a few things. Then we can attend to whatever business you have." His tone wasn't particularly friendly or encouraging, and his beside manner was abysmal, truly. He was good at giving orders, and so that's what he did. It was the only way he knew how to take care of the people around him, and it was his privilege, his right, as Warlord Prince and master of this house to do just that. So he would. And he did.

Offline Beckett Orval

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Re: Throw me to the Lions
« Reply #4 on: Apr 09, 19, 10:38:00 PM »
Becket was fairly certain he was doing a pretty good impression of a fish right now. He stared in shock as he complemented the color.

"Thanks." The word came out as a squeak and Beckett wondered with frustration if he had somehow gone back to being thirteen. Maybe this was just a bad dream. That had to be it. But then his head throbbed again reminding him that he was, in fact, very much awake. His eyes tracked the Warlord Prince across the room, and Beckett quickly dropped his gaze when he came back. No use in being caught staring. He had certainly embarrassed himself enough for one day.

Really this was all a bit much for knocking heads with someone. Yes his head hurt, but he certainly wasn't injured. He would probably have a headache for a while and that would be the end of it. Still, he couldn't find it in him to disobey the orders he was being given. It bothered him that he wasn't bothered by them. Really he should be insisting that he was just fine, thank you. Instead, he was trying to figure out why he felt flushed, how to make that stop, and how exactly he was going to hide the tent that was trying to form in his trousers when he had to lay down. This was ridiculous.

Also he hated tea, but he didn't want to be rude, so he accepted it anyway and did more blowing on it than actually sipping it. He was half tempted to see what happened if he vanished the tea out of the cup. Probably, he would end up with more tea.

Beckett was drawn up short, though, when Samson mentioned discussing his business. Did he not know? Surely someone had told him that a new tutor had been hired. Ideally, he would have been involved in the process even if he hadn't been the one to conduct the interview.

"Um-" Again, his voice squeaked, and Beckett cleared his throat. "Maybe you don't know?" The sternness that Samson spoke with made Beckett a little nervous that he was going to somehow disappoint him now after this whole debacle. "I'm the new tutor hired for your children?" Despite his best efforts, it still came out as a question.

Offline Samson Graywarren

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Re: Throw me to the Lions
« Reply #5 on: Apr 10, 19, 07:00:51 PM »
'I'm the new tutor hired for your children?'

Samson frowned at the question. He frowned at the man. He frowned at the whole situation. Or, maybe he was frowning because that was just what his face did best and by now that was the expression that felt the most comfortable. Particularly since he was someone between confused and irritated - which, while a common state for him, wasn't a pleasant way to be. And for some reason he almost thought he scented arousal in the air. Or maybe the tea was just particularly strong and he was feeling on edge in particular ways.

"You don't sound very sure of that," he commented dryly in response after studying the younger man for a moment, leaning back in his chair and sipping some of his own tea. He closed his eyes, then, just for a moment, and let the familiar taste soothe him. He was at home, his domain, with his people and his children all safe (if not a little wild and disorganized) - he had his tea, and everything would be set to rights.

He opened his eyes after a moment and indulged himself in another sip of tea before setting the cup aside and studying the man before him a bit more closely. "Beckett Orval, yes - I interviewed Lady Sawyer quite extensively since she was listed as your primary reference." He eyed him curiously. "She expressed a lot of confidence in your abilities and was of the opinion that your personality was well suited to managing my children. Considering she is one of the few members of my staff that the boys almost-always listen to, I have taken her recommendation very seriously." While half of his children were male - 'the boys' always referred to Brixton and Bently. Always. Because they were the ones always getting in trouble.

Well, he supposed they all got in trouble.

"I hope you don't let her down. You aren't drinking your tea." He went directly from one subject back into the previous one, now eyeing the still full cup of tea. "Is your stomach unsettled from the injury?" His gaze was very narrowed and every iota of his attention and focus was on the male across from him. The other man couldn't know it (or maybe he was astute enough to guess) but it was taking quite a bit of self control not to just make him lie down so he could bundle him up and keep him there until he was perfectly fine and healthy again.

Offline Beckett Orval

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Re: Throw me to the Lions
« Reply #6 on: Apr 22, 19, 04:21:32 PM »
With his face flushed, Beck looked back down at his barely touched teacup. This was definitely not the first impression he wanted to make with the father of the children he was to teach. Since he was not sure what he could say that didn’t seem hollow or as if he was trying too hard, Beckett chose to say nothing.

“I’ll make sure I don’t let her down.” It would be a lie if Beckett said that he was surprised at how highly his best friend had spoken of him, and if the situation was reversed, he would have done the same thing for her. He was really looking forward to getting to see her more often now. After she moved away, it had been tough for them to manage matching up their time off and then booking travel. Now they could easily have lunch or dinner together if they wanted to.

“Oh, uh, no my stomach is alright,” Beckett said and then, feeling the weight of Samson’s gaze on him, he took another very tiny sip of the terrible tea and made sure his distaste didn’t show on his face. Beckett had already caused enough of a commotion; he didn’t need his employer to think that he was ungrateful for the hospitality.

“Really, it was just a little bump to the head. No big deal.” Beckett felt a little foolish getting fussed over like this when he wouldn’t even need to see a healer for this. The hit wasn’t even hard enough to cause a mild concussion. Maybe Samson just felt bad for how his kids behaved, and this was his way to make up for it.

This meant Beckett wanted to get things back on track here since it felt like everything that could have gone wrong, had. Well, except that he had been on time while showing up. And if these kids really had chased off as many tutors and governesses as he was told, there could have been far more going wrong. Beckett paused for a moment, wondering if he could get away with knocking on wood without being spotted.

“When would you like me to meet your children and get started?” Beck asked. Hopefully the answer was ‘now’ so he could get away from this cup of tea.

Offline Samson Graywarren

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Re: Throw me to the Lions
« Reply #7 on: Apr 22, 19, 05:11:11 PM »
Samson's eyes narrowed as he watched the other man sip the tea. He didn't like how hesitantly he took those dainty sips - though not because he percieved any kind of slight. Truthfully, it never occured to the Warlord Prince that Beckett didn't like the tea that was offered - and the idea that someone could dislike all tea in general was a concept so foreign to him it might as well be transcribed in another language. So Beckett's trouble was then assigned with some kind of physical ailment or discomfort.

"Hm." A sound of consideration from most other men came out as a gruff sort of grunt from Samson. "I suppose it is best that you meet them sooner rather than later." He clearly didn't like the idea of shuffling Beckett off to work when he was clearly injured and needed to rest, but he also couldn't deny that holing the new tutor away for a day or two so he could recover was probably not the best way for the man to start off on the right foot with the children. "Stay there," he barked as he stood up and brushed his hands down his pants. He gave no further explanation and instead turned and left the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

It took him maybe ten minutes to round up all of his children, and then he was leading them down and back to his office. Since they were so rarely permitted entrance into this sacred Father Space, even the twins didn't fuss as they were shepherded inside. Samson took a moment to look over them from where he stood in the door. It still surprised him - on an almost daily basis - how much they had grown. They stood in age order, and that made it all the more apparent that Naomi was becoming a young woman, that Harrison a young man -- so clearly no longer strictly children. Something panged in his chest at that. He felt like he'd... missed something there. Lucy and Maureen... they were so big now too. Only babies the last time he was around for longer than a week or two at a time.

But those thoughts were uncomfortable. They were thoughts that had to do with.. feelings, and Samson had always let his wife deal with those. They had been easier to deal with when she was here...

The Warlord Prince swallowed hard, pushing away those thoughts and those feelings, instead stepping away from the door.

"Children, this is Lord Beckett Orval." Although not necessarily strict to protocol - as Beckett wasn't exactly a Warlord without Jewels, he was still a full member of the Blood - and it was still considered appropriate to address him as thus. If a non-Jeweled Blood woman could be a witch, then a non-Jeweled Blood man could be a lord. Samson had always held true to this belief, so good luck trying to change it. "He'll be your new head tutor."

He looked to Beckett. "Lord Orval - these are my children. Harrison, Naomi, Jacob, Susan, Brixton and Bentley, Lucy, and Maureen." He indicated each child as he spoke their name and they more or less responded with some sort of acknowledgement. There was a definite mischief brewing in the twin boys' eyes, and the two youngest girls eyed Beckett with quiet uncertainty, but for the moment at least, it seemed no one planned to cause any sort of scene.

Offline Beckett Orval

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Re: Throw me to the Lions
« Reply #8 on: Apr 22, 19, 08:36:45 PM »
The barked order did things to Beckett that it had no right doing. He stared in shock as Samson left the room, but as soon as he was out, Beck jumped into action. Quite literally, in fact. He leaped from his chair towards the potted plant that sat by the window where he proceeded to empty some of his tea into the dirt.

He glanced at the door and then into his cup. The goal was to empty enough to make it look like he had drank it, but not so much that Samson offered to refill the cup. Beckett eyed the remaining tea. Was that not enough? He emptied a little more. Nope, still not enough. A slight tip turned into a slosh when a sound from outside the room made him think he’d been caught. With wide eyes, he looked at the door once again, frozen in place. After a couple seconds went by and no one walked back into the room, he looked into the cup. Dang. That was probably too much now. Oh well, that would have to do.

Beckett hurried back to his chair and wiped the tea off the side of the teacup and then sat and waited. He could hear that the children were gathering, and he practically bounced in his chair with his excitement at meeting them. His mind was already planning out the lessons that he would go through, and the alternatives that he would use if the first choices were not working out.

He stood as they entered the room, setting his teacup aside to hopefully be forgotten. He looked at each one as they were introduced, and then he realized that he needed to say something. Somehow this had not occurred to him, and it was possibly worse because there was a large group of them. He hadn’t ever been introduced to this many students at once; usually just one or two.

“Hi everyone,” Beckett managed to say with a smile and a small, awkward wave. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you all.” Since he doubted that they were looking forward to learning, he figured that was a better route. Some kids did, but they seemed to be few and far between. “Hopefully we’ll be able to get a lot accomplished.”

Offline Samson Graywarren

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Re: Throw me to the Lions
« Reply #9 on: Apr 22, 19, 08:58:09 PM »
Of course Samson noticed that the tea had finally been consumed. Good. The man was too pale and too shaky, and he'd just been injured. Tea was the natural solution for this. It calmed the spirit and lifted one's physical energy. He never went anywhere without good tea vanished away, and while he preferred water that had been boiled by natural fire a little bit of craft was an easy way to countermand the absence of accessibility if he was stuck in a carriage for a long ride or something of the sort. He wasn't particularly good at being welcoming or warm, but he could offer tea - and he could make sure that Beckett was properly looked after. Once the children were sent on their way and he had the man settled in his rooms he'd make sure some more tea was sent up. Something a bit stronger maybe. No.. something more mellow, to help him rest. He would probably need it, especially with his injury. Yes, yes that sounded good.

That settled, his attention honed in on his children as they all took stock of their new tutor. Harrison and Naomi he felt he didn't have to worry about overmuch. They were the eldest, and as such he expected them to be responsible and polite. As far as he saw, they generally always were. There was tension he didn't quite understand with his daughter... but she was also a teenage girl and... Well, what father did understand their teenage witchling?

Jacob was fidgeting, filled with a restless energy. Samson had noticed it especially in the short time he'd been back - like the boy couldn't keep still or keep his attention on one thing. His combat training we going very well, but there was a reason he was looking toward the Courts about an apprenticeship for him. He was a young Warlord Prince, and he was at the age where he needed more refined training. A Warlord Prince himself, he could guide him - but with his own injuries he feared... well, he didn't want to fail his son in this too. Perhaps it would be better if someone whole took care of it.

Surprisingly, it was Susan who was the first one to speak after the tutor's introduction. The thirteen-year-old eyed him and pushed her glassed up her nose. "Are you sure you can actually teach us?" she inquired primly.

"Susan."

"It's a fair question, father," Harrison interjected with a calm shrug.

"Yeah!" "I mean." "We gotta deal with him." "Right?" Bentley and Brixton traded off words and managed to still string a proper phrase together in a way that suggested they often spoke like this.

Lucy and Maureen remained quiet, though while Maureen continued to stare at Beckett with wide eyes, the slightly older girl was looking around the room as if searching for something far more entertaining to do.

Offline Beckett Orval

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Re: Throw me to the Lions
« Reply #10 on: Apr 25, 19, 04:22:33 PM »
“I do think I can teach you,” Beckett said. He chose his words carefully because he knew that while Samson would (or at least should) care about his qualifications, he knew the kids would zone out immediately.

“I have all sorts of fun things for you all to learn, and don’t worry, you won’t all be doing the same work.” He would need to figure out where each child was in their studies to see if they were behind or needed to be challenged more, but he definitely was not about to insult the older children with work that was geared towards the younger ones.

Beckett’s eyes scanned the children briefly and then his gaze settled on the twin boys, Brixton and Bentley. On that note, who named twin boys with B names? That seemed like it was asking for trouble when trying to holler one’s name. He was sure that at some point, he would shout the wrong name, and then probably that of a sibling or two, and then finally the right one. This was something he had experienced with parents of his previous students. It never happened in his own home growing up, though, because his brother never got yelled at. There was no reason to mistakenly shout his name. Beckett wished their father had, though, because maybe it would have given him a running start sometimes.

Shaking that off, Beckett refocused his smile on the twins.

“Do you boys like bugs? For your first lesson, you’re going to need a bunch of them.” Bug collection and classification was one of Beckett’s favorite lessons. It was always fun for him to see the different bugs the kids brought back to pin to their boards. Often times, boys that seemed like they were rough and tumble kids would be gentle to make sure that the delicate butterfly wings did not end up torn.

Offline Samson Graywarren

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Re: Throw me to the Lions
« Reply #11 on: Apr 30, 19, 07:24:11 PM »
Naomi said little at first, studying the man with a cool eye. Nothing very impressive at first look, but they had been surprised in that regard before. Still, best to go gently at first. Be his friend, obedient student, put him off his guard. “Lord Orval, it is a pleasure to meet you. Hopefully the… unfortunate string of luck that has affected our past tutors will pass you right on by.” Naomi smiled earnestly at him, dipping into her Rose to guard her emotional state from the newcomer. Perhaps a bit suspicious, but emotional secrecy was hardly unknown from the average teenage witch. “Harrison and I are naturally a bit past bugs- we’re more interested in your ability to prepare us for University-level work. Are you confident there?”

Samson, though an incredibly perceptive commander when at sea, among his men, or in the throng of battle - was still somewhat unpracticed in picking up on subtleties when his children (or.. people..) were concerned. As such, he only nodded in approval at his daughter's seemingly welcome reception of the new tutor and her valid questions regarding University. He didn't necessarily like the idea of his oldests running off to University, far from home, but he wasn't ignorant enough to think they'd stick around forever. He would just forever prefer them to be somewhere close where he could protect them.

At least there was still a couple of years left before his eldest children reached their majority, and until then (and preferably for some time after) they would still be entirely his children, fully under his roof and protection.

He also completely missed the conspiring smirks that passed between the younger twins as the boys both nodded and made appeasing sounds about bugs and all the great things one could learn about them. This was good, very good.

"I don't want to dig around for bugs," complained Susan primly, brushing her fingers down her dress as if already imagining the mess. "I'm going to be an inventor. I don't need to know about bugs to do that."

Jacob, still fidgeting, flashed a bit of a grin down at his younger sister and nudged her in a way she found irritating (so naturally he did it again). "You're thirteen, how do you know what you do and don't need to know? Besides, maybe it'll help you build some.. big ladybug coach that you can fly about town or something." He gave Beckett a small, rather shy smile. The boy wasn't quite the brawn one might expect of a Warlord Prince, especially considering his father. Instead, he was skinny and rather shy behind all that restless, fidgety energy.

Samson raised a brow at this particular contribution. "No one will be riding oversized ladybugs around the house. The grounds, perhaps, but only if there are safety belts." There was no amusement in his voice whatsoever. There also wasn't any doubt or ridicule - like it wasn't an odd thought at all that his thirteen-year-old daughter might build something so outrageous. His sole concern was just that it was done so with proper precautions. One or two of his children regarded him curiously at this, perhaps even with a bit of wary hope. Their interactions with their father, even now, were limited - and with such a gruff man it was easy to expect something less than support from him. Though perhaps the older children may remember a time what such was more the norm...

 

 

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