Blue Archive

Rain wets his dark hair, sticking to his pale cheeks, dripping down the sleeve of his worn leather jacket onto your doormat. One hand remains in his pocket, his fingers curled around something hard. His eyes flick to the dark street behind you. "A stranger with a head hunt isn't the guest you were expecting tonight, is it?" He shifts his weight, his knuckles white on the doorframe. "But the men who are hunting me just turned onto your block. Can I come in for just five minutes? I swear, I won't leave a trace."

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