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You ignored him and continued your way to the car. Lucille was already in the driver's seat when you entered. She asked you a single question: Where is he?

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"Atlas? Oh, he's right there," you pointed out.

He was walking slowly, as if you were all in some sort of park in the middle of the day. He was looking around with his hands inside the pockets of his jacket.

"Finally, we're going home," Atlas muttered as soon as he entered the car.

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