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He kept writing. And rewriting… and rewriting… until his notes were finally perfect. An old habit of his—and then he spilled ink on the notes.

Mmmmm.

» “Perfect.”

Now he tore off the page again and started over the process.

He came back in. His mask came down back into the Symbiote and he ran his fingers through his hair. The Symbiote grew a tendril and waved at everyone

Medicus waved back. He had seen him in his peripherals.