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It was half past nine in the evening, when Madarame stopped in front of James's door, making a quick visual survey of the area, to make sure he hadn't been spotted by any of the neighbors. He was dressed casually. Nothing too flashy, just jeans, white T shirt and sneekers. He’d left his hair band at home. He looked even hunkier out of that milkman uniform. He looked like a different man.
“Well, the coast is clear” he muttered, approaching the door, and ringing the bell.
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