[ But not beg. By the time he's blinked away the stars and regained control of his voice, his shoulders are hitting the expensive leather seats, and panic hits him hard. Giles thrashes, tries to shake off the Repo Man's grip, scrabbling clumsily at his waist for something tucked into his belt.
He's lost track of everything but the fact that he is being attacked, and even drunk, he knows he has to move. Fight. ]
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He's lost track of everything but the fact that he is being attacked, and even drunk, he knows he has to move. Fight. ]
Fuck--