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for Bakilas
You enter the elevator excitedly imagining all the delisciously evil things you plan on doing, the ride is uneventful, and you quickly find the correct room, the door opens smoothly inward as you raise your hand to knock, and you see the woman at the window looking down at the street below, her dress has been shed in favor of a long robe, and she gestures for you to come closer, grinning impishly.
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