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Summary
He gestures to the leg in question. “So what’s wrong with it?”
A man of few words. Good. Remus can cope with a man of few words. “It’s fucked,” Remus tells him without pause.
Sirius barks a surprised laugh, showing off straight teeth that are either the result of some impressive orthodontic work or just really excellent genetics. “Oh, we’ll have fun, I think.”
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Or, Remus Lupin needs a personal trainer. Sirius Black happens to be one.
