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He had a strand of hair draped listlessly on his nose. Deep, dark bags under his eyes. Ichor-gold spots on his lips, where he'd stressed out and chewed like he hated them. The face of someone who felt completely worthless.
Normally now he'd shrug, and get on with his sad little life. But as he took in his haggard, cheeto-stained reflection, something in him called bullshit.
Thanatos is finally ready to text Daphne.