The Best Secunda Casino Hotels 2020 (with Prices ...

Sasolburg and Secunda - life in oil and coal towns

Greetings to all of /southafrica!
Google Maps is a godsend for bored people, but sometimes you stumble on things that open up a few questions. While checking out satellite imagery of South Africa, Sasolburg caught my attention by being named after an energy company. Turns out it also has an aptly-named partner in Mpumalanga!
Perhaps someone here has lived there and can tell what there's to do besides working for Sasol? Have people settled there or are they "work for a few years and get out" places? Both towns were founded fairly recently and seem to have been developed, if not from scratch, from not that much, since. Industrial towns usually seem to have quite a few entertainment options, but all I can find about Sasolburg is some top-notch sports facilities and Secunda has… well, a giant casino.
Sasolburg is in close proximity to Vanderbiljpark (also founded pretty late) and Vereeniging, both of them apparently industrial. Secunda isn't next to anything, which seems to make for some kind of community spirit as the "I lived in Secunda and survived it" Facebook group shows.
Bottom line: what's life like in places like these (and are there any stereotypes attached to them)? I initially learned about the existence of Secunda due to a few artists I follow on Twitter playing gigs there and was surprised to see how big the place was, so it seems to be a spot on some musicians' tours. Oil/coal towns aren't unique to South Africa, but we don't really have those at home so have to start asking somewhere.
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The House Always Wins- Viva Las Investigation!

[Storymode], and this was written with the approval of Mint's author! Enjoy!
New York City, New York
Theme Prima
“Mr. Cross?” The voice is tinny through the speaker, but still largely understandable. Sitting in a glass encased conference room from a rented New York office, Barrett scribbles on a notepad with beautiful white quill, as Dimitri takes more thorough notes, clacking away on a laptop.
“Yes, this is. May I ask who is calling?”
“Oh, of course. This is Investigator Cornfield speaking, Clark County Sheriff’s department.”
Oh, fuck. Barrett raises an eyebrow to Dimitri, who quickly shifts tactics, doing a search of Saints activities within Clark County; it’d be just his luck of late to have one of hi men getting picked up for not being able to hold their booze and taking a swing at a cop. As the search continues, Investigator Cornfield continues speaking.
“We have on record that you’re in charge of the investment of Ms. Lillian Mint and her family, correct?“
“Yes, I am. Why?” Curious, Barrett leans forward to the speaker phone. Piqued, he genuinely wants to know more, regardless of the odd look he’s getting from Dimitri.
“We recently had a situation occur that will have affected the flow of Ms. Lillian Mint’s money. We wished for you to know this so you don’t see anything unusual and worry.”
“Investigator, you can’t just say that. What situation? What happened?” Barrett’s tone gets sharper as he’s teased with pieces of information, each kept tantalizingly far away from his
“That is up Ms. Lillian Mint to disclose. For now, the information is being kept within the family. Thank you for your understanding. For any additional questions, please contact Clark County Sheriff’s Department at-”
“I have questions now! Have you talked to Mint? Where is she? Is she oka-”
CLICK
The death knell of the phone drones through the room, as Barrett scowls at the conference phone, his hand letting his quill pen drop to the notepad. With an icy calmness, he pushes the notepad far from him before he stands and reaches for his walking stick beside him. Dimitri, knowing what’s going to happen, quickly closes his laptop and rolls away from the table. Barrett, taking one step away from the table, sharply pivots and brings the cane down in a shattering crack upon the phone, a howl of anger and frustration escaping his lips as the plastic of the phone cracks beneath the bronze cap of the cane.
CRASH!
Silence reigns before Barrett speaks once more. Shoulders shaking and breath ragged, his voice is surprisingly calm.
“Dimitri, get me a flight to Vegas, please.”
“-and yes, I need your help -What? Fine, please help me.” Barrett says into the cellphone, rolling his eyes. Seems karma truly does work, as he’s talking himself in a round circle from an earlier experience. Still, the response he gets is at least favorable.
“Alright, I’ll see you in the lobby of the Venetian, cutie.” A foxish voice giggles through the phone. “And don’t keep me waiting, I hate that.”
Las Vegas, Nevada
Theme Secunda
Landing in Vegas, Barrett grimaces. A good twenty degrees warmer, but at least it’s dry and sunny. Flagging down a taxi, the Child of Momus directs them to the Venetian. As the taxi fights its way through the slog of pedestrians and vehicles, Barrett pulls out his phone, reviewing what facts he has. With Dimitri doing homework for him back in New York, there’s a small portfolio waiting for him. Apparently, Mint’s mother Helena had not withdrawn any money in the past several days. For ease of access and security, her monthly stipend was handled through a separate account, just to keep channels clear. Other benefits were rapidly becoming apparent as well, as Barrett can see that there has been no interaction with the money since it was placed in. Normally, Helena was very prompt with accessing the money; as if she didn’t trust Mint’s loan shark of a friend. A fair assessment for an outsider honestly, but it’s helped bring things into disarray here. Why hasn’t she withdrawn the money? Just what happened?
His reverie is interrupted as the car stops in front the casino in question.. Barrett’s grimace only deepens as he sees the sight.
“She literally could not have chosen a more inconspicuous place…” He mutters, before looking at the surroundings. The Mirage on one side, Circus Circus down the block… alright, maybe they could be somewhere more conspicuous. Possibly. Barrett clambers out of the car, tipping the driver and bringing out his heavy suitcase. He’s blushing all the while, he can’t believe that he’s had to do this to make it work… But, it’ll be worth it if it does work. Rolling the suitcase behind him, the young man enters the casino.
Luckily, he doesn’t have long to wait. The young woman lounging on a couch near the massive doors looks up from her phone, her warm eyes bright as she leaps up from her seat and all but tackles Barrett in a hug.
“Hey cutie. I didn’t think you’d show up.” She murmurs into his ear, smirking as she quickly pulls away and watches Barrett’s rose-tinted kaleidoscope of expressions.
“Uh, of c-course I would, we’re going… going to do some work.” He manages, giving a nervous smile as he takes fluttering steps to the counter. One check-in later, and the two are being shown to their suite midway up the the massive tower. Once inside, Barrett collapses into a surprisingly comfortable armchair, while Fatimah perches herself upon the arm of it, one leg crossed over the other. Silence echoes through the room before Fatimah, ever the bold one, takes the first step, breaking through the ice.
“So… what’s this job of yours, Barrett?” As if asking about the weather, she broaches the topic easily, like this is a rehearsed line from a play. “Unless this about the… cashing in your bet?” Now it’s her turn to flush a bit, and for Barrett to blush a deeper red as well.
“N-no, this is… it’s about a friend. A client of mine, she’s gone missing… and something happened to her mother, I think.”
“Oh, really? Tell me more.” Fatimah inquires, dropping from her perch on the chair of the arm to go to the minifridge and pull out a bottle of water. Barrett nods, before continuing.
“So, I’m in charge of her estate’s finances… and her mother typically receives a monthly stipend… but it hasn’t been touched yet. Then, I received a call from the Sheriff’s Department here, that her finances may come into rough water. When I asked more about it, they said that I needed to talk to Mint… But how do you talk to a person who’s been missing for weeks?” Barrett mumbles this last part to himself and the floor his eyes downcast. Taking a sip of water, Fatimah wanders back to him and tousles his hair before crouching down beside him. A small smile crosses her face as she looks up at him with gentle, brown eyes.
“Alright, I understand… but what’s the plan, Barrett? How’re we going to help her?” Barrett can’t help but notice the faint strain on the word ‘her’ as Fatimah says it. Jealousy is felt in all people, it seems. Still, the pang that follows makes him grimace. Her feelings won’t make this any easier.
“Well… I’m going to need you to disguise yourself as her.” Barrett pulls out his phone, and pulls up a picture of himself and Mint, faces ridiculous and silly. It took a bit of work, but he’d managed to get it off of the Big House’s antique of a computer and on his phone, a note of personal pride. Still, Fatimah doesn’t seem convinced, if the frown is anything to go by. She looks from the picture to him with an ever-deepening frown.
“Barrett, I hate to tell you the immediate flaw in this plan, but-”
“Oh, that I can take care of,” he assures her, slowly pulling himself out of the chair. “That is, if you trust me.”
“...I do.” She nods, and both finally smile, nervous and excited at the same time.
“Alright, then I need you hold out your arms for me, and look straight ahead.” Barrett nods, as Fatimah does as instructed. Slowly, his hands trace above her, never touching as he works his magic. Minutes pass, but finally, Mint stands before him. At least, in appearance. Brown eyes become blue, and her headscarf has been infused with the Mist to appear as a sheaf of flowing blonde hair. A tear slips down his face as he works, and it doesn’t escape Fatimah’s notice. Smirking a bit, she playfully teases the Child of Mockery.
“Is this that hard to do that you’re crying, Barrett?”
“No, it’s not that… just that there’s a lot of feelings.” He admits, raising his arm to dab away the tears before continuing to work.
“...What do you mean, a ‘lot of feelings?’” Fatimah asks, in a surprisingly acidic tone. Hearing those words come from Mint, and the frown crossing her face, Barrett tries to quickly change tracks.
“Ummm… well, you look great as a blonde!” And in that moment, Barrett realizes that was the decidedly wrong thing to say. Turning in a huff, Fatimah goes and locks herself in the bathroom. Barrett quickly goes to the door, knocking on it.
“Oh, Fatimah, that’s not how I meant it!!”
“Right, that’s why you said it after showing me that picture!” She says, her voice muffled through the door. Barrett’s face is a mix of concern, confusion, and just an overall grimace of displeasure at himself.
“I was just saying that… Oh, dammit… Look, I screwed up, okay? I shouldn’t have said that, especially after you didn’t look like you. I’m sorry.” Take that one to the bank, it’s probably worth more than the Saints funding, an apology from Barrett Cross. Silence is the reply, before Fatimah speaks once more.
“...I want a picture of us like that.”
“Umm… okay.” Barrett replies to the quiet demand, relieved that it could be resolved that simply. A moment, then two pass before Mint… no, Fatimah unlocks the door and manages a small smile.
“Alright… let’s get to work then, cutie.”
Clark County Sheriff’s Department
Theme Tertia
Barrett and Mint make their way into the building, faces set in grim determination. A temporary plan had been set into motion during the cab ride there; Barrett’s going to do the talking, be the overbearing lawyer to his distraught client. Once inside, Barrett goes to the front desk, ringing the dainty bell to get the secretary’s attention. As she looks up, an expression of shock and terror crosses her face. Barrett’s used to that, but here? He’s never been to Vegas before.
“He-he-Helena??” The secretary stammers, prompting a look from Fatimah to Barrett, who quickly interjects.
“Lillian Mint to see Investigator Cornfield.” The woman looks from from Barrett and then to Fatimah, her expression raising questions as to whether or not she should doubt that ghosts are real. Stuttering, she manages a shaky reply.
“Oh! O-of course, sir… But who are you?”
“Oh, I’m Barrett Cross, her personal lawyer and financier. Number is 0224223, if you need to check.” He says with a small laugh. The ID isn’t one for Nevada, but for a lawyer in a New York firm. Surely he won’t be too worried about an incidental case like this. The woman nods, pressing a button on her desk phone.
“Investigator, you have two people to see you. A Mister Cross, and Miss Mint- huh, yes, that Mint, by her looks. Just like her mother.” She pauses a few times, nodding and replying as appropriate before returning the phone to its cradle and looking back to the pair before her and gesturing to a door down the hall.
“The right at the end of the hall, he’ll be expecting you. Would either of you care for tea, water? A snack?” An odd stare crosses her face as she looks up at Fatimah. Looking rather uncomfortable with the woman’s gaze on her, she offers a shrug.
“Umm… water and some graham crackers, I guess?” Barrett raises an eyebrow at this, doing his best to hide a faint smirk as he sets down the hall.
“Come along, Miss Mint. We shouldn’t keep the Investigator waiting. Surely he’s a busy man.” He calls as Fatimah follows along. Partway down the hall, Barrett offers a small chuckle.
“Graham crackers? Why not ask for a juice box too- ow, hey!” A sharp punch to the upper arm is his reward, as Fatimah glowers at him with Mint’s blue eyes.
“I like graham crackers, what’s your point?” She says in a dangerously quiet voice. Barrett, deciding to be diplomatic about this, simply goes to the door and holds it open for her. Inside, a man with salt and pepper hair rises to his feet, a careworn smile crossing a face that is apparently on passing terms with a razor, if the stubble gracing his cheeks is anything to go by. Stepping up, he offers a hand first to Fatimah, then to Barrett. A strong confident grip for a man in his prime.
“Miss Mint, and Mister Cross, a pleasure to see you both, thank you for taking the time to to come and talk with me. Please, take a seat.” He gestures to a pair of wooden chairs across from his leather office chair. The pair are seated, as the man continues, “Now, I’ve got to say, you have been a most challenging young woman to get ahold of, Lillian. We’ve tried calling for days, and haven’t had any luck.”
“Yeah, well, bootcamp isn’t exactly a place that gets the best reception.” Fatimah shrugs, toying with a lock of her blonde hair.
“Funny, we even called the bootcamp and demanded to talk with you, but…. Well, we didn’t get you, can you explain that?” The question is an idle one, but the Investigator's eyes show far more than his casual expression does. As Fatimah tries to remember Mint’s upbringing, Barrett takes the time to jump in.
“She’s been out on leave of late, Investigator,” he explains. “What with her grandmother’s death and the exchange of power her dynasty is going through, it’s understandable, honestly. We, meaning her executors and myself, thought it best to keep her fortune out of the picture. We don’t want anyone thinking she’s better than she actually is.” Oooh, the withering glance there is enough to tan Barrett’s arms through the suit, as Fatimah glowers at him. The Investigator simply laughs, nodding along before clicking on a few things on his computer.
“Ah, of course, that’s completely understandable then, yes. As for you Mister Cross… We ran a search on your name as well, and found some most interesting information about some escapades in King County up in Seattle… Know anything about those.”
“I can’t say that I have,” Barrett lies effortlessly, the words flowing like honey from his lips to the Investigator's ears. The man nods in a daze for a second or two, before the secretary returns, water bottles and a sleeve of graham crackers in hand. Smiling, she hands the treat to Fatimah, and puts a water bottle down beside each guest. That seems to draw the Investigator out of his reverie, and he leans forward to ask another question.
“That’s not all you’re eating, is it?” Throwing Fatimah off-guard, she shrugs before slowly answering.
“...Yes?” It’s not like she was expecting a full meal or anything here. The Investigator sighs softly as he watches her open the sleeve and start nibbling at one of the crackers.
“I guess you’re more like your mother than just appearances would suggest… Why’s it always the pretty ones who starve themselves?” He sighs, his question punctuated by a sharp crunch as Fatimah snaps off the cracker. Luckily, Barrett interposes himself before a sharp retort is issued.
“Helena starved herself?” Well, that was certainly news, to say the least. Barrett leans forward as well, unintentionally mirroring the Investigator's position.
“Well, it’s not the official cause of death…” he notes, before looking to Fatimah. “But first I have questions that I need to know the answers to… Like how Lillian was the last person to see Detective Acrobat before he was murdered here in Vegas… Nowhere near where she was stationed. Care to help out, Miss Mint?”
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. Barrett has no clue of the right answer to this, Mint’s been gone for too long. How can Fatimah know? Still, the woman keeps her cool, before carefully replying.
“He was bringing me to see my mother, he said. Said that he had a surprise for her, and wanted me to be with. Why wouldn’t I go with him? Oh, and I know that I’m not supposed to sit in the front seat of a squad car, so that’s why I was in back.”
Clever girl, Barrett thinks. It’s all he can do to not smirk as the Investigator continues his line of questioning.
“And why you ran from a murder scene?” A murder? Just what happened to Mint that she was in police custody and getting involved in murders? Again, Fatimah has an answer.
“Well, after Acrobat… you know, I was… I was scared, alright? I just watched someone get shot… and wasn’t at bootcamp. Do you think I wanted to deal with that, too?” She crosses her arms looking back up at the Investigator who nods, pulling back.
“I see… I always thought that Helena had raised a more… stoic daughter. You were so quiet and well-behaved the last time you were here with her,” Cornfield notes with a raised eyebrow, prompting an interjection from Barrett.
“Sir, my client’s character isn’t something in question here. She’s been in bootcamp for several months,there’s little reason not expect some degree of change in temperament.” He points out, casually scanning the man for a few of his tics, as well. Barrett has to cover his face with hand to mask the smile that crosses his face. Someone is… well, was bothered by Acrobat, and if the mother is anything like the daughter, he knows why. Man, he’d even feel a sense of kindred spirit with this man in a different life. Cornfield continues on regardless of Barrett’s silent discovery.
“That may be, sir,” a stinging tone is drawn through it, “but I cannot excuse her actions, nor do I believe that Hele- Lillian would do such a thing,” he hurriedly corrects himself midway through, but he wasn’t quick enough to cover that cue from Barrett, who quickly puts up a retort, looking like an amused housecat all the while.
“I think you’re projecting some feelings onto my client that you shouldn’t be, Investigator.” Barrett notes with his classic crocodile smile. “What business is it of hers just how much like her mother you think she should be?”
“It’s that way because, uh… I mean, I didn’t mean to-”
Barrett watches the Investigator finally sweat, to feel what he and Fatimah felt during the beginning of the meeting. When the Investigator stutters into silence, wheels having spun into the mud, Barrett speaks once more.
“Look, it’s none of my business, but you’re being pretty hard on Miss Mint, if you ask me. She witnessed a murder. And yes, she ran. What testimony could she provide if she was that blinded by terror, to the degree that Helena’s training failed her? I’m personally glad that she chose to flee, I’d hate for more blood to be on someone’s hands because of foolish pride.” Barrett’s tone is soft and gentle, perhaps even a bit conspiratorial with the man sitting across from him. “We want to help how we can, but we don’t know anything...can you imagine how Lillian feels here, you haven’t even told her what happened to her mother, Investigator. Please, the only way we can help is if you help us… For Helena.” He gives an appeal to the emotional tie he’s confident that the Investigator has, knowing how he’d respond if someone came to him in such a way regarding the junior Mint. A moment or two passes, before Cornfield finally nods, acquiescing.
“Alright… I’m sorry, Lillian. I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that.” A chastened man, Cornfield hangs his head low as he offers Fatimah the apology. She nods gently, looking at Barrett in surprise. This was a far cry from the criminal she knew from Seattle.
“Now, can you tell us what happened to Helena, please?” Barrett inquires, as Cornfield draws in a shaky sigh.
“...She’s dead, first off. Killed her partner, er, ex-partner, and then herself. She quit the force a few days ago, after not showing up, no calls, nothing. We have no clue where she was before that, the number was blocked and we can’t get a bead on the location itself; she could’ve been calling from a block away, or halfway to France for as much as we know,” he says with a heavy sigh. “As for reasons… well, that’s why we wanted to talk to you, Lillian,” he turns to Fatimah, a frown crossing his weary face, “You say that Acrobat wanted to surprise your mother? Did he say what that surprise was, or did he do anything unusual?”
“No… not that I recall.” Fatimah says quietly, and is rewarded with another sigh from Cornfield.
“I suppose not… that would’ve been too easy. I’m going to be frank with you, Lillian, Mister Cross… We’re looking at a murder suicide, here. With Helena shooting Acrobat, then herself. We’re operating on the belief of mental instability prompting this. The starvation and sudden withdrawal following the death of your grandmother seems to make that a logical conclusion for us… Not that it makes things easier to hear, by any means. We’ve lost two good people.. And I hate to think that it’s because of one of my officers…” A lethargic sigh escapes him as Fatimah looks to Barrett, before she speaks up.
“Investigator...I think I left a few things when I ran away… Was anything found?”
“Hmm… oh, unfortunately not.” Cornfield shakes from his reverie, working to get back to the task at hand. “Wait...we do have one thing that’s unusual…” Pressing a button on his phone, he speaks slowly and clearly.
“Miss Marni, please bring me what we found outside the factory.” A few moments pass, and a plastic bag is delivered to the office. Inside, a single, snowy white feather rests. A few flecks of red can be seen on the outer edge, but it is unmistakably from Mint’s plumage. Cornfield looks from it to Fatimah, gesturing it out to her.
“The blood is Detective Acrobat’s… is this your feather? We didn’t find anything else there, so I’m not sure where you lost it, if not there…”
“No… it’s not mine. Why would I have a feather?” Fatimah questions, but Barrett’s mind is running in overdrive. She was here, Mint was here. But… now she’s not. If there’s blood, something happened… Would her mom kills someone in front of her? Barrett isn’t sure, but he doubts it. While they’re certainly not a Brady Bunch pairing, Helena and Lillian, he doesn’t think that their relationship is that strained. So, what happened to Mint…?
“Were there any signs of people beyond the deceased and Miss Mint?” Barrett asks, receiving a shaken head in reply.
“No, that’s something we wanted to know from Lillian… If she could give us more, I wouldn’t have to say an officer, that Helena was responsible for this… I…. We don’t have anything to go on besides the scene I’ve described, and it seems pretty open and shut, honestly. We’ve tried reaching out to Detective Acrobat’s daughter, but haven’t gotten a reply. She’s always been a hard one to reach, apparently. Acrobat would talk about how hard it was just to get a text from her when she was in college… typical teenagers, right?” He looks to the two across from him, a ghost of a smile on his face. “But look who I’m talking to, huh?” The silence in the room is deafening as Cornfield gives one last heavy sigh, reaching into his desk and pulling out a business card. On the other side, he quickly writes out a number and address.
“Here’s the daughter’s phone number and college. If you can get her to talk to me, I’d greatly appreciate it. Unfortunately, I don’t speak MTV, so I’m hoping she’ll listen to her peers instead. I… I don’t have anything else for the pair of you, unfortunately. You’re dismissed, if you’re missing bootcamp, Lillian.” He manages to give a hollow laugh at the lackluster joke, and Fatimah rises from her chair, her movement mirrored by Barrett at her side. Reaching over the table, Barrett extends a hand to the defeated Investigator, smiling a somber, sad smile.
“Your help is much appreciated, Investigator. If Miss Mint remembers anything, anything at all, we’ll be in contact with you the moment it happens.”
“Thank you, Mister Cross. That… that’s a welcome comfort, one that’s sorely needed, I think. Let me know if you ever want to practice in Nevada as well… we could use someone as sharp and annoying as you.”
“I’ll give it a thought,” Barrett notes with a faint smirk, managing to eke one out from the Investigatoras well. At the very least, he’s not arresting either of them, which makes this the best encounter Barrett has ever had with the authorities; he’d had no intention of getting a private tour of the Clark County prison, nor did he have the time. With muttered goodbyes, Fatimah and Barrett make their way out of the room, and then the Sheriff’s department. Once they’re free, they duck into a back alley, where Barrett dispels the Mist surrounding Fatimah. Gone is the Mint facade, leaving the mischievous young woman he was so confused about beneath. Still, her eyes don’t promise mischief; they only promise concern for the young man.
“You okay, Barrett? That… that’s a lot to think about, what you heard in there.” She admits, toying with the fringe of her headscarf now that it’s no longer flowing blonde hair. It’s a cute gesture honestly, one that Barrett had never seen her do before. A small smile crosses his face as he feels his heart tremble.
“I… I’m not sure what to think, honestly. All I know for sure is that she was here, and that she’s definitely in trouble… I’ll need to regroup and think about what to do…”
“So, you’re going back to camp, then?” She raises an eyebrow as she asks, and Barrett nods. “Well, you’ll need to get back quickly, then… So that ruins my plans.” She sighs softly, a small smile crossing her face. “I thought we could have a bit of a vacation here, enjoy ourselves a bit.”
“I’m sorry, Fatimah, I genuinely am.” And strangely enough, Barrett does feel remorse; he’s genuinely sad that he can’t stay… but he knows that he can’t, that he needs to press on. “I’ve got to find her before it’s too late, you know I’d do the same for you, right?”
“You… you would?” Apparently, she did not, if the shock and faint blush crossing her face is anything to go by. Biting her bottom lip ever so slightly, she shakes her head quickly, perhaps harder than necessary. “That’s not here or there, Barrett. Your friend is in trouble, and you need to find her. I’ll take care of talking to Acrobat’s daughter, I’ve got free time… and your suite.” She winks playfully, before reaching into her pocket and pulling out her phone.
“But before you go, I want my fee for helping.” She shakes the phone and pulls Barrett close. Laughing softly, Barrett puts on a smile for her; a small, yet genuine, one. For a moment or two, Fatimah mirrors his expression, before suddenly leaning in and kissing his cheek, snapping the photo before the shock registers on the Child of Mockery’s face. Pulling away, she giggles softly as she looks at the picture. Leaving Barrett in awe, she waves as she runs out of the alley, waving to him and tossing out one last farewell.
“See you soon, cutie!” Her voice rings out, bright and cheery into the hot Vegas afternoon. Barrett, after a few moments, finally stumbles out of the alley after her, a hand raised in farewell. A taxi, seeing the gesture, pulls to a stop, before calling out, “Hey kid, where you goin’?”
“Huh?? Oh, ummm… Bring me to McCarran, I’ve got to get home.”
“You and me both kid, let’s go.”
Camp Half-Blood, New York
Theme Quarto
Barrett returns to Camp Half-Blood, two flights and an interrogation under his belt. His eyes are weary, and he’s in dire need of sleep; flights not being his favorite experience. Still, a smile crosses his face despite the dire information he’s acquired. Staring down at his phone, he admires the picture of the dark-haired boy and the girl pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek, a heart frame festooning the border all the while.
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Мужские часы Casio MTP-1370L-1A - видео обзор наручных часов от PresidentWatches.Ru - Duration: 1:44. ПрезидентВотчес.Ру 43,940 views 1:44 Vusi nova & friends at Graceland Casino. Top 10 FUNNIEST Auditions Britain's Got Talent 2016 (Try NOT TO LAUGH!) - Duration: 26:42. CASIO PROTREK Triple Sensor Ver.3 PRW-3000 Altimeter TEST プロトレック トリプルセンサーVER3を検証 - Duration: 2:38. WATCHTANAKA1 125,398 views 2:38 Дайверские часы с вращающимся безелем casio mtd-1053d-1avef. Diver's watch with bezel - Duration: 3:30. Watch Review 71,202 views Stil: Casual, Clasic Afisaj: Analog Tip Mecanism: Quartz Mecanism: Japonez Rezistenta La Apa: 30m Indica: Ora, Minut, Secunda, Data CADRAN Culoare: Alb Geam:... Graceland Hotel Casino & Country Club

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