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From: A game of croquet


It may be prudent to downplay your increasing intimacy with devils.





Success

A hushed afternoon

The game is held in a corner of Tyrant's Gardens. The atmosphere is sepulchral; no one speaks […]. You whistle softly, and applaud silently. Her smile reveals one flashing fang. 'Strength of character. Good,' she whispers, staring into your eyes.

[Find the rest of the story at http://www.fallenlondon.com]