47’s plan was a symphony of misdirection.
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A single, imperceptible puff of air. It carried a micro-aerosol of… nothing. Just a faint, saline mist. Sea spray, essentially. The thing the Baron’s iodine-primed body was now hyper-sensitive to. 47’s plan was a symphony of misdirection
He clutched his neck. Made a sound like a squeaking hinge. And collapsed into the bavarois au caramel beurre salé . saline mist. Sea spray