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Smog, smog, and smog.
Blech.
Christina hurried to the bar, unused to the awful stench of the Leeds atmosphere. She hoped they would have some sort of air filters inside the building.
Making her way down the entrance, she breathed a sigh of relief as the familiar smells of cigarettes and alcohol overwhelmed the oppressive "Leeds-neas" that was found outside. She took a quick look around for Charles, and made her way to where he stood.
Tapping him on the shoulder, she stood there with a smile, still in her flight suit.