I already know who's going to win, let's go. I don't want to be here for the rush after the match. [ It's two reasons in one, and neither of them is the real reason, but Wu doesn't need to know that. All he needs to know is that Mako is resting a hand on his arm—over his jacket, no skin-to-skin contact here, thank you—and tugging him off his own barstool. ]
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