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Nov 22, 2024 12:10:57 GMT -6
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"Romania," Ashton repeated after the girl, knowledgeably, to the officer on the phone. "Romania," He thought aloud quietly to himself.
What was a girl from Romania doing picking his pocket? And here, in New York? Did she have a passport? Was she even in the country legally? And if she was underage, who was supposed to be caring for her? Who was her legal guardian? Now came the torrent of questions.
As the man spoke on the phone in the background, arranging for a translator, going through line after line of communication searching for one, Ashton mulled those thoughts over. He hauled the girl over to a hard waiting bench, and nodded down at it. "Sit." He hoped he got the point across. It'd be a bit of a wait. Not fun to wait standing.
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