Attempted infiltrator dresses French but gets outed because he suggests an awful wine pairing

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A universe where anarchist cells become increasingly French, compete with stripey shirts and baguettes, but the local officials can't investigate the passing Frenchmen because they're not allowed to metagame.


We construct our reality, and begin with the spark of imagination. Without it, we can do nothing.


We think evolution is this mysterious thing
But evolution gave us puppers
It can't be all grimdark
Brooding batman


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