Cho eyed the exits, wandering if she could slip out, and muttered a particularly ugly phrase in Mandarin under her breath when she saw that they had already posted officials there to keep people from leaving. Were they that concerned that a bloody duck was going to escape? She would really rather not be stuck in the same room with that monstrocity of so called art looming over everything.
"I dare say the Prophet will throw around a few fine feathered phrases in tomorrow edition."
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strugglewithin,