Keiji was beginning to pace. His face bore a cold exterior, but agitation was beginning to well up. They would have to work faster. He allowed himself a brief moment of whimsy to pick through one of the crates. As long as it wasn't thy book his lord wished, there would be no penalty. As he contemplated on crate, a sound behind him caught his attention. That did not sound like books. Slowly he walked to the crate, his footsteps silent. The only sound was the metallic sheaths of his claws piercing the flesh of his finges.
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