Hello! I hope you don't mind, but may I request for some fluff between the Yuna and Philip possibly meeting and bonding with Salvador's family?
It'd be adorable to imagine Salvador introducing both of them to his kids and his wife. It'd be nice having them sitting down for a delicious dinner after a tiring day with tough request. The three of them just talking with Salvador's wife over how work was going and maybe playing with his kids. Maybe even Philip and Yuna showing them their weapons? I'm pretty sure the kids would be delighted at Yuna's cool weapon! I know I am.
I thank you a lot in advance!
Many thanks to my good buddy @kinda61 for beta reading this,, Go follow him, he’s got good shit.
Now,,, as of publishing, this ask is,, very old. It’s the oldest in my inbox. I apologise to y’all for making you wait for this TwT But it’s finally out!! The ending is sorta meh imo but I just couldn’t drag this out any longer, unfortunately,,
Anyways,,, personal tangent aside
Don’t think Salvador ever mentioned how many kids he had? I’m just gonna go with three kids,, three is a good number
I also don’t think any of his fam has names, like, at all,,, and if I’m wrong, well f u c k
Also also, I’m pretty sure Salvador is like,,, hella o l d
Dude’s got white hair and everything, he’s probably in his like, forties or fifties at least? I doubt his kids would be anything younger than, say, in their late teens
So I’ve written his kids to be like, in their late to early twenties,, dw, they’re still absolutely fascinated by fixer equipment,,, honestly I don’t know who wouldn’t be, Yuna’s cello blades are m w a h
also, can you tell I don’t know how ssanghwa-cha is made??? p a i n
Edit: Also available on my AO3 :33
Dinner with the Dawns
ft. Dawn Office and Salvador’s Family
As the night slowly comes to rise over the city and the bustle of business within the streets dies down, the streetlight lamps slowly flicker on to illuminate a pair of fixers standing before a modest flat.
“This... This is it, right?” the blond-haired man eyes the brown door hesitantly, rereading the address again and again as if it would suddenly try and trick them. “We’re not in the wrong place?”
‘What if I somehow misread it? I could’ve, couldn’t I? Though, seon-bae is here… Maybe she’s just playing along?’
“Not unless he moved away after the last time I’ve been here,” the accompanying woman rolls her eyes, gesturing to the nearby window. “And that decor just screams gramps.”
Philip frowns. “Seems a lot more fancy than I expected from him, somehow.”
“Ha!” Yuna lets out a brief laugh, amusedly shaking her coffee cup and swirling the liquid within. “You haven’t seen the least of it, rookie. All his good antiques aren’t kept at the office, after all,” she smirks.
“He collects antiques?” the fixer raises his eyebrows in mild surprise.
The woman scoffs. “No, he invests in R Corp stocks. What do you think he does?”
“I don’t know, okay? I’m just- Never mind,” Philip sighs and shakes his head. “Can we just go inside, please?”
“Will do,” Yuna hums before repeatedly kicking at the door while her junior watches on in horror. “Oi, Gramps! We’re here!”
Silence follows for several awkward moments. The only sounds come from the buzzing street lamps and the brief noises of shifting fabric as Yuna adjusts her cello case’s straps, followed by another slurp from the cup. After a good half minute of silence, the mahogany door creaks open, and a bubbly, red-haired woman greets the two fixers.
“Oh my goodness- Yuna, is that you?” she beams at the teal-haired fixer, taking a metallic hand in her own palms. “You’ve grown so much since I last saw you! Look at how tall you are!”
“Y-yeah, uh, it’s been a while, Miss Eleanor,” Yuna blushes softly and ducks her head as she shakes the woman’s hand. “You are looking well too.”
“Salvador has told me so much about how well you’ve done in recent times!” Eleanor chuckles. “Very impressive indeed! Oh, how you remind me of my younger days when I still did fixer work... Only the Colours’ know how my husband keeps going at his age!” she laughs brightly.
“I’m flattered,” Yuna smiles gently, before shifting to the side. “Miss Eleanor, this is Philip. He’s the newest member to Dawn Office. I believe Salvador has spoken about him before,” she explains, gesturing towards the blond.
“Oh, indeed! Salvador was absolutely right,” the old woman gasps. She quickly moves past Yuna and grabs Philip’s hands. “My, you’re a handsome young man indeed!”
“I- I’m sorry?” the man splutters, flushing bright red. “Thank you, ma’am, but- I really don’t think-“
Eleanor only chuckles. “Ah, the youth these days,” she tuts, patting Philip’s shoulder with enough force to make him shake. “Always so lacking in confidence! Where is your spine, young man? Why, back in my day-“
“Miss Eleanor,” Yuna coughs, interrupting the old woman. “I hate to cut this short, but we would like to come inside. The evening air has been growing rather cold.”
“Oh, but of course!” Eleanor gasps. With shocking speed, she pulls the blond-haired man towards the front door and makes a ‘come in’ motion. “My most sincere apologies, darlings! Please, do come inside!”
The fixers are swiftly swept into the household with a mountain of adoring chatter from the rather short woman. Inside, the flat is brightly lit with several wall-mounted lamps, and is furnished modestly. Upon the many shelves lining the wall, there’s a myriad of various trinkets, vases and old trophies, not unlike those from the office, and any would-be blank spots are filled by vivid paintings.
“This is new,” Yuna raises her eyebrows at the nearest piece. It depicts a beam of light shooting from the earth, with long branches formed from the golden lustre that stretched on endlessly. “I’m guessing he painted this, right?”
“Indeed I did!” Turning to the source of the voice, the two fixers come face-to-face with a beaming, red-haired man. “Thank you for noticing, Yuna!” he grins, dark eyes sparkling.
The olive-eyed fixer rolls her eyes. “Of course I noticed. I have eyes,” she hums, taking a sip from her coffee.
“And you are..?” Philip frowns at the man, internally cursing himself for not asking about his mentor’s family beforehand.
“This is Velvet! He’s our youngest,” Eleanor grins brightly. She swiftly moves over to her son, pinching his cheeks and eliciting a soft, “Ow! Muuum-” from the man. “Velvet, be a dear for me and show them around the house?” she beams, fixing the scarf around his neck.
“Miss Eleanor,” the teal-haired fixer smiles nervously, “it’s quite alright-”
“Nonsense, darlings!” the woman insists, patting down Velvet’s t-shirt before turning to skip down the hall. “And just Eleanor is fine, Yuna. You can drop the Miss; it makes me feel quite old,” she scolds lightly, before ducking around the corner of the hall and calling out cheerily, “Tally-ho, dears~ I’ll be back in a crack.”
After a brief second of stunned silence, Yuna sighs, eyes furrowed in exhaustion. “I already know my way around though...”
Velvet reaches over and tentatively pats her shoulder, smiling awkwardly. “Spritely as ever, isn’t she?” he laughs, before apologising. “Really though, I’m sorry about mother, Yuna...”
“S’all good, I know how she is,” she shrugs, running a hand through her hair before gesturing to Velvet. “How have you been, Vel?”
“Mm, so-so~” he hums, shrugging his shoulders. “The usual, going to work and sorting papers, coming home and trying to unwind... Nothing that great, frankly,” he frowns, before laughing bitterly. “Sometimes I wish I could’ve gone into fixer work,” he murmurs, swaying back and forth on his feet.
“Bleh, don’t listen to gramps,” she rolls her olive eyes yet again. “Fixer work isn’t as great as people make it out to be. I mostly do it because cellos are stupid expensive.”
“That’s what you always say! Always whining about how luxury items ‘inexplicably’ cost a lot of Ahn~ And yet that thing is 90 percent blades at this point while 10 percent cello!” Velvet harrumphs, pouting. He suddenly turns to Philip. “ What about you? Philip, right? What’s your opinion on fixer work?”
“I just hope to… be better, and do good, I suppose?” he mumbles bashfully while fidgeting with the hilt of his simple sword, glancing around frantically to change the subject.
‘Too much, too personal too quickly, find something else to-’
“Uh, that’s a painting of the White Nights and Dark Days, right?”
He gestures to the rather large painting that had apparently been painted by Velvet.
“Oh, well, it could be… In reality, it’s- Well, a little embarrassing,” he laughs softly. “I, uh, paint whatever comes to me in my dreams,” he continues, before inaudibly mumbling, “But, yes, I see what you mean now~ It does look a lot like the Whitest Nights...”
“Ah,” the fixer blinks in surprise at the honesty. “I... see.”
The red-haired man awkwardly cringes, and Philip once again curses his poor choice of words. “Yeah, I know it’s a little, uh, out of left field, but everything I see in my dreams are always just so... Vivid,” Velvet explains, rubbing the back of his neck. “They just stick to me, and I have to get them out, y’know?”
“The White Nights were a hard to forget sight, that much is true… Do you- Does anyone buy these?” the blond asks, gesturing again towards the painting.
Cue another cringe. “N-No, I work as a clerk for an office as my main job. I-it pays surprisingly well,” he wrings his hands nervously as he speaks. “I really do wish I could make art my career, but- Even within the Nest, not many people appreciate things like this...”
“Your parents do,” Philip points out.
Velvet lets out an exhausted chuckle. “Yeah, they do, but not in- Not in the artistic sense. They think it just looks nice, y’know?” he smiles drily.
‘...isn’t that what appreciating art is though? I… better not say that out loud.’
“Hmm,” Philip muses, taking another look at the painting. “I suppose.”
‘Darn it… That was awful, Philip. Just horrible…’
Silence once again permeates the atmosphere, leading the blond to berate himself for his less than adept social skills.
“A-anyways, uh, bathroom’s at the end of the right hall, and the kitchen and dining room are through here,” Velvet clears his throat and cuts through the uneasy quiet. He gestures towards a distant opening in the hall and begins to stride over, abridging the house-tour as much as possible. “Again, sorry about mum…”
“We already told you, Velvet,” Yuna sighs, slouching to the side as she moves alongside him. “It’s fine.”
“Yeah,” Philip nods, trying to seem amicable as he attempts to keep up to pace with the duo. “Really, it’s all good. It was a nice, uh, moment to learn about each other,” he continues, crossing his fingers and trying not to combust from embarrassment.
“Ah!” the man seemed to light up at this, dark eyes glimmering. “R-Really?” Philip nods and opens his mouth, ready to respond, but Yuna swiftly beats him to the punch, presumably sick of the duo’s attempts at socialising.
“Wow, look at you two, getting along~” she grins, tired eyes flashing with amusement.
“H-hey! I’m always friendly with people!” Velvet gasps in mock outrage, gently punching her arm as she merely continues laughing. “Stop it! I’m nowhere near as antisocial as you say I am! Philip, please tell her-!”
“Seon-bae…” the sandy-haired fixer begins, before shaking his head. “Velvet is right. He’s certainly friendlier than you on my first day.”
The red-haired man makes an exasperated gesture. “See?!”
“This proves nothing. I’m never friendly anyway,” the teal-haired fixer insists softly as the trio turn into the kitchen, stumbling into the scent of… charred meat?
“Hmm, Rosepetal... I think you’ve burnt the steak~”
“Language.” A good-natured voice quips from the corner.
Two figures stand by the stovetop, varying greatly in height but nonetheless sharing the same startling red hair as Eleanor and Velvet. Philip swiftly concludes that they’re the sisters. Meanwhile, seated in a comfortable chair before the mahogany dining table, the recognisable figure of the Dawn Office’s operator perks up at the sight of the three newcomers.
“Ah, there you are,” Salvador’s face lights up with a warm smile, and Philip finds himself breathing a soft sigh of relief. “I see Ellie dumped babysitting duties on you, Velvet. Hoho!”
A scoff comes from the red-haired man as he peels himself from Yuna’s side and leans against a nearby wall. “Don’t patronise them, dad. Mum already smothers us with enough adoring affection,” he grumbles, only half sarcastic.
“Mother’s getting old,” ‘Rosepetal’, the woman with shorter hair, calls out bluntly, still eyeing the burning steak with what appears to be morbid curiosity.
“Mmm-hmm~” the other figure by the stovetop hums in agreement. “Don’t mind her preening, she’s just broody, y’know?” she continues, before nudging the lady beside her. “Hey, let me take over with this-” she hands the knife over, “-and you can cut the carrots, yeah?”
A simple “Sure.” is the only response given.
Salvador, meanwhile, lets out a low chuckle. “Aren’t you two forgetting something?” he asks amusedly, tapping the side of his tea cup.
“Hmm, I wonder~” the cheerier sibling briefly muses, before gasping aloud and whirling around. Her amber eyes are blown wide and her hands grasp at her cheeks, exaggerating the scandalised expression. “Oh! Introductions were thrown to the wayside!”
‘Rosepetal’ lets out a sigh from beside her, slumping over the cutting board. “Of course they were… Mother’s flightiness never seems to escape anyone in this household.”
“Ah, it’s not that bad, Rosa,” Velvet laughs from his spot against the wall, tugging at his scarf. “She means well.”
“Good intentions do not always lead to good executions,” ‘Rosa’ shoots back, before fully turning around to address the newcomers. “I’m Rosalina,” she introduces herself, before gesturing to the other woman. “And this is Cerise. Insult her 5-Star cooking, and I will kill you.” She punctuates the end of her sentence by pointing the knife at the duo.
“Duly noted,” Philip gulps, raising his hands in a terrified surrender.
“Now now, Rosa,” Salvador chuckles amusedly. “Be nice to our guests, yes? They won’t do Dawn Office any good if they’re dead.”
In response, the teal-haired fixer sighs and plops down onto a nearby chair. “How kind of you to defend us, master,” she remarks dryly, taking another sip from her cup.
“If only to save his wallet,” Rosalina shoots back, before sighing and dropping the knife on the cutting board. “I’m done, Cerise. You can handle the rest, right?”
“Mmm-hmm~ Thank you for the hand, Rosepetal!” the cheery redhead beams, before adding quietly, “Though, you did burn the steak…”
“I was never good with food,” she replies curtly, before slumping down in the seat beside Yuna. “Weapons and augments are my forté.”
Upon hearing this, Philip perks up. “Rosalina, are you, by chance-”
“A fixer? No, I get asked that a lot,” the red-haired woman sighs brusquely. “I do workshop business. Ardour Atelier.”
“One of Stigma’s competitors, I see,” the blond-haired man nods.
“And the creators of these,” Yuna grins, punching her prosthetics together in a grating crash of steel, causing everyone but Rosaline to flinch. “She’s real good.”
"Very much so,” Salvador hums, frowning ever-so-slightly and taking a sip of tea from his cup. “Rosa is an exceptional engineer, much like Philip is an exceptional Fixer.”
“I see you trying to butter me up, old man,” she scolds, glaring at her dad while making a ‘hand it over’ gesture at Yuna. She holds out a hand, and Rosaline begins running her fingers over the metallic grooves of the prosthetic. “Would you believe that he’s asked me to make things for free before? The audacity of veterans,” she tutts grumpily, eyes still focused on Yuna’s hand.
‘Are… Are they…?’
“Ah, I’ve been foiled,” the old fixer chuckles lightheartedly, snapping Philip from his thoughts. “Sharp as always, Rosa.”
“Gotta be in this world,” she shoots back, almost grimly. “Everyone wants something from you, intentions not withstanding.”
“Not this again~” Cerise whines from the stovetop, pouting as she attempts to salvage the charred steak. “It’s too early for your narky ‘city-wisdom’, Rosepetal!” she calls out, briefly turning around to give the preoccupied woman puppy-dog eyes.
Moving to take his own seat, Velvet sighs. “I agree with Ceri, Rosa. It’s hardly time for something like… this,” he furrows his brows, gently gesturing to the red-haired woman.
“...Not the first time?” Philip pipes up nervously, settling down in the nearest free chair.
‘I hope I’m not intruding… Or worse, being offensive… Which is worse? ...Wait, aren’t they both terrible?!’
“Hardly,” Salvador’s laugh brings Philip out of his internal rambling as he takes another sip of tea. “Don’t worry, Philip~ Rosa here is merely being ‘brutally honest’, as she puts it. It’s not unusual for us to discuss this during the evening,” he smiles warmly, assuring the blond-haired man.
“I’m not wrong,” Rosaline grumbles as she moves on to inspect Yuna's other hand. “Everyone in the City has a role to fulfil because everyone has something the City wants, one way or another.”
‘...She’s not wrong, though…’
“Does this have to do with-?” the teal-haired fixer slowly begins, but Rosalina quickly shuts her down.
“No, it doesn’t,” she snaps harshly, before her tone softens. “Not directly at least,” she murmurs, before shooting a pointed look at Velvet. The man frowns slightly, turning away and tugging his scarf up to his face while the red-haired woman can only sigh in response. “It’s fine. Really. There’s no hard feelings about it.”
“Is this about the prosthetics?” Salvador inquires, cutting through the tension, and the trio collectively flinch, causing the man to sigh and down what little tea he has left in his cup. “Of course it is.”
“We’re over it,” Rosalina practically snarls, turning her icy gaze onto her dad. “What’s done is done.”
Silence permeates the room, and Philip can only squirm uncomfortably in his seat as the tension worsens. He doesn’t seem to be the only one who’s uneasy about the atmosphere - Velvet shifts awkwardly, taking a sudden interest in his shoes, while Rosalina turns her attention back to Yuna’s hands. Hushed whispers are briefly exchanged between the two women, but they end as swiftly as they begin.
“Yeesh~! The way you four are so strung up about it makes it sound like a war crime!” Cerise breaks the silence with uncomfortably bright cheeriness. “Lighten up, no? It’s meant to be a good night!” she grins as she drops a stack of plates on the table. Everyone visibly flinches at the sound of clacking porcelain.
“Cerise, dear,” Salvador frowns, gently setting his cup on the table as if to present an example. “Please be more careful with the plates. These are the antiques.”
“My carelessness will cease when your overbearingness for the Incident ceases,” she merely beams in response before skipping back over to the stovetop. “Can someone check where mum is, by the by? Everything’s almost ready~”
“I’ll go,” Velvet volunteers immediately, eager to escape the situation. “She’s probably almost done anyways,” he murmurs softly as he strides out of the room.
“Bet 5,000 Ahn she’s fixated on an old photo again,” Rosalina calls after him, before turning back to Yuna. “Don’t do that again. You’re going to wear down the metals faster,” she scolds, letting go of the fixer’s prosthetics.
The teal-haired woman merely gives a weary yet mischievous smile in response. “No promises.”
‘And just like that… Everything seems so peaceful again.’
The clatter of cutlery and soft, hushed whispers between the two women at the table swiftly fills the previously unoccupied dead silence, and Philip slowly finds himself drifting deeper into his thoughts.
‘I never did find out why seon-bae had prosthetics… Cerise mentioned something called the Incident… How long ago was it? And, are seon-bae and Rosalina… a thing? They seem so close, and yet-’
“Ah, Philip,” Salvador gently taps his shoulder, and the sandy-haired man whirls around to face his mentor, eyes wide. “Would you be so kind as to brew me some ssang-hwa cha? And perhaps teach Cerise how to brew it as well. Home brew is simply not the same as store-bought.”
“Oh, uh,” he simply blinks before awkwardly moving out of his seat. “Yeah, sure.”
“Joy!” the veteran fixer beams. “See, Cerise? It’s a useful skill to have,” he calls out to the red-haired woman.
“Brewing tea is but an arduous waiting game! It’s hardly anything like cooking, not to mention it’s yucky old man tea!” Cerise whines from the stovetop, making a cartoonishly despondent face. “And before you say it’s anything like baking, it’s not! Besides, the only reason you want me to learn is so that you don’t need to walk five blocks down to the local tea shop~”
A hand comes to grasp Philip’s arm as he moves towards the stovetop, startling the blond fixer. “Do not teach her,” Rosalina gives him a blank, dead-eyed stare. “It will set a precedent. He will force us into labour and bleed us dry.”
“As if you guys are poor,” Yuna pipes up, rolling her eyes. She goes to take another sip from her cup, only to frown as she finds it empty. “Actually, while you’re at it, Philip, brew me some coffee, yeah?”
“Do not do that either,” Rosalina huffs at the blond-haired fixer as she loosens the grip on his arm. She turns back to face Yuna, shooting back with, “You’re still banned from my coffee supply.”
An amused grin comes over the olive-eyed woman’s face. “Says who?”
“Ha! Like I’m scared of you.”
“You should be. I’ll reprogram your artificial nerves to slap your face if you ever say ‘coffee’ again.”
Smiling nervously, Philip shakes himself from Rosalina’s grasp, and finds himself slowly shuffling away from the bickering. As he inches towards the stovetop, trying not to get in the cook’s path, he gingerly reaches out to tap the whirlwind of red on the shoulder. “Uh, Cerise?”
“Ceri is fine, Philly~” she whistles, flamboyantly pulling a batch of freshly baked pastries from the oven. Philip ducks his head to avoid being hit by the burning hot tray. “The tea set is in that cupboard over there,” she points to a nearby cabinet, before dumping the tray atop of the stove. “Actually, we just keep all of dad’s tea knick-knacks in there,” she continues, humming as she fearlessly sweeps several of the cakes up in one hand.
‘Philly… I- I haven’t been called that in a very long time…’
“Noted,” Philip nods slowly, uneased by her nonchalant attitude towards being burnt. He gingerly plucks various cartons of herbs from the cupboard, and two sets of footsteps enter the dining room as Velvet re-enters the kitchen with a chattering Eleanor in tow.
“I got mum,” the red-haired man calls out, sighing. “She was reminiscing over an old photo of Cerise.”
“Do I not have the right to?” Eleanor smiles sweetly, eyes brimming with mist. “She’s simply grown up so much!”
“Called it,” Rosalina hums, ignoring her mum’s statement. Briefly breaking her and Yuna’s conversation, she holds out her hand and gives Velvet a pointed look. “5,000.”
He merely groans in response, collapsing into a seat. “One, I didn’t agree to it, and two, even if I did, I don’t carry my Ahn around at home,” he lists off, frowning as he holds two fingers up. “So, no.”
“Rude,” she merely shrugs in response, before turning back to Yuna. “Anyways, yeah, Alyssia was more than happy to let me take today off-”
“Eleanor, dear, you should be more attentive when we have guests over.”
“Oh hush, you! As if you greeted them at the front door~”
Attempting to tune out the new background conversations, Philip mulls over the Dawns’ strange dynamic as he gently pushes the empty pastry tray from the stovetop and places the kettle on the bottom left burner.
“What’s the blend again?” Cerise huffs as she pokes the herbs in the cup. Her face is scrunched into an uncharacteristic scowl, amber eyes narrowed at the loose leaves as if they had personally insulted her cooking.
“Ah, I can, uh... Label them for you?” Philip offers uneasily. “With, like, a marker or something, if you have one lying around...”
‘She looks… so mad… It’s genuinely terrifying...’
Cerise’s unadulterated glaring continues for several moments before she turns away from the cup, tossing her hair. “Certainly~ I’ll bring you a marker after dinner,” the chef waves her hand in dismissal. “I’d rather not clutter my headspace with unnecessary thoughts at the moment, though.”
“Yeah, sure,” the sandy-haired fixer nods just as the kettle goes off, whistling and steaming. Filling the cup with boiling water, the familiar, bitter scent of ssanghwa-cha slowly fills the room, to the displeasure of the red-haired chef. With a muttered, frowny quip of “Bleh, herbal aromatics...”, Cerise twirls towards the dining table, sweeping a loaded plate into her hands.
“And dinner is served on a porcelain platter!” she cheers, wilfully oblivious to the collective cringing of the room’s occupants as the plate is harshly dropped. “Tonight, we have mostly medium-rare steak with creamy mushroom sauce and asparagus as our main-”
“Cerise.” Both Eleanor and Salvador frown, cutting the chef off and reprimanding her in a stern tone.
“I know, I know~” she rolls her amber eyes, clapping her hands together in unfazed delight. “Anyways, this is our main, and we would’ve had a wonderful starter of fondant potatoes topped with crème fraîche, black truffle flakes and caviar if it weren’t for Rosa burning those too!”
“You asked for my help,” the red-haired woman shoots back.
“You said you could do it!”
“I said I was willing to do it!”
‘They definitely seem... quirky. But, it’s a good quirky. It’s… nice,’ the fixer muses to himself as he drops a raw egg into the cup of tea.
He glances up briefly, just in time to witness Velvet letting go of a seemingly furious Cerise. The chef launches herself at her sister, slamming into Rosalina and somehow knocking her from her chair. The two are only saved from a rough impact into the dining room’s floor thanks to Yuna, who leaps from her chair with shocking speed to catch the redheads. With little effort, she easily supports the weight of the two women as Velvet nervously frets over them, trying to untangle Cerise from Rosalina. Meanwhile, Salvador and Eleanor merely look on with what appears to be fondness.
‘Yeah… it’s definitely nice,’ Philip smiles softly, picking up the freshly brewed ssanghwa-cha.
“Master!” he calls out, striding over towards the dining table with the teacup. “I’ve finished brewing you some tea…”
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