Mahir watches Georgia leave with a frown of his own, but if Shaun isn’t stopping her, well. He grimaces vaguely at Shaun’s words, and moves to take a seat. “Yes, thank you. I’m sorry for punching you.” And he is. How many times did he have to tell Shaun that you can’t go around punching your coworkers? And yet here he is, nursing a bruised hand. He looks at Shaun and makes another face. “I think you may have a bruise.”
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