[Damien shoots a glance back at him, over his shoulder, as he limps towards the bar, intent on helping himself to a drink] Do I look like a local to you? [he looks like a man dressed for late November in Chicago, is what he looks like. though, once he actually gets a good look at Cloud, he continues:] You, on the other hand ...
[he thinks he figured out where all of the metal the Eiffel Tower's supposed to be made of went. it's in that ridiculous shoulder guard]
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[he thinks he figured out where all of the metal the Eiffel Tower's supposed to be made of went. it's in that ridiculous shoulder guard]