Paranoid

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“My name’s Giotto. Nice to meet you,” the blonde greeted. You stared at him with suspicion in your eyes.

“(Name),” you stated.

“You’re oddly suspicious of me. I may be the boss of a vigilante group, but I mean no harm,” Giotto said, holding his hand out to you. You didn’t take it.

You were a tough one to crack, but he’d melt that ice around your heart.

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