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."
It's possible, Xris agreed, just not probable. In all the years he'd worked with Raoul, the Adonian had never let the team down. Xris halted in front of a large double wooden door with 1019 in brass digits.
He listened. His augmented hearing would have picked up the flutter of Raoul's false eyelashes. No sound.
Xris scanned the hall. No one in sight except a cleaning 'bot down at the far end. Removing his lasgun from his shoulder holster, Xris lightly tapped on the door with the barrel.
"Raoul!" he called.
He hoped--hoped like hell--the door would open. He'd find the embarrassed and apologetic L9ti trying to kiss him.
The door remained closed.
"I'm going in," Xris told Harry.
Gun in hand, Xris kicked his steel leg into the door, burst it open. Splinters flew. The lock snapped. He dashed in, his gun moving in a tracking arc, looking for targets. He saw nothing more alarming than one of Raoul's hats.
The room was made up. The beds hadn't been slept in. Raoul's luggage was open, clothes strewn about--on the bed, on the floor. A red taffeta cloak was draped over the rid. Xris might have concluded immediately that the place had been trashed, but Raoul's bedroom back home looked exactly the same, only worse. Even an overturned lamp was nothing out of the ordinary, if Raoul happened to be suffering through a bad hair day.
And then, "Damn it all," Xris said softly
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