I think we've all been there: You're hanging out at a cocktail party when a man standing next to you is shot by a sniper. Then, everyone starts levitating and twisting inside out, floating in circles and regurgitating their own limbs like hellish ouroboros.
…oh, just me? Well. Maybe I should stop playing Spy Party and start going to the parties you go to instead, Mr. Fancy Pants.
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