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Shifty blinked untimely spots from his vision, and there, he could see her, right where he’d hoped she’d be. She was clutching a suitcase in one hand and flicking the bell on Popeye’s bike with the other. In the scar on her wrist and the skirt wafting about her calves and the way she ducked her face behind her hair, he saw her. She was here at last. To the end of his days, Shifty would remember that shaky breath she took as the moment the war had finally come to an end.
Or, Verity fulfills a promise.
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May I present to you: another IDOC epilogue, only on AO3. Overdue, perhaps, but I think worth publishing despite the two years (my gosh) it’s been since I finished In Defense of Chicanery. Thank you, and I do hope you enjoy.