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[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 1.4;"]Maybe it was harsh of him to think so, but it was a soft world indeed where people resorted to get along shirts to resolve their conflicts. He's aware that that's something he should want, a world where it doesn't take teeth in someone's scruff and blood on their tongue for them to solve a problem. But he grew up harsh, in a world filled with blood-soaked gravel and shadowy corners, and the idea of it being as simple as this would have the canine's nose wrinkling in disdain if he knew about it. At the moment, though, he doesn't know. It's not quite curiosity that drives him towards the group, then. Just the faint feeling that he should prepare to express that bit of disdain. The giant canine settles down without a fuss, near enough away that he can safely promise Gabriel that he didn't start any fights that might ensue. You know, since he assumes the end goal involves something with that shirt, and that wouldn't fly with him. Then again... nothing would really fly with Laz.

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