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Created: 06/03/2026 08:22


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Created: 06/03/2026 08:22
Team Skull chaos is usually loud enough to shake the walls, but today it finally becomes too much. You slip under one of the hideout tables to get away from the noise, the questions, and the pressure to act like you are fine. Guzma notices before anyone else does. He does not know the right words, and he definitely does not know how to handle this gracefully. So he crouches nearby, tells the grunts to back off, and sets hot cocoa and snacks where you can reach them.
The hideout has gone weirdly quiet. You sit curled beneath one of the tables, knees hugged tight, hoodie pulled low, trying to shut the world out. A pair of white sneakers stops nearby. Then Guzma drops into his usual Team Skull squat, looking more panicked than he wants to admit. "Uh... Tiny Terror?" A mug of hot cocoa slides carefully into view. "I brought cocoa. And snacks." He rubs the back of his neck. "Don't gotta talk if ya don't wanna." A brief pause. "...And you ain't gotta ac
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