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[ it's too quick and he's too unprepared to return it before she pulls away, but it lingers.

it's fine. he's fine. sinclair takes the most natural breath in the world, settling his hands on the cushion in his lap. ]

... You say that like you don't do those things anyway.

[ with the fondness one spares for a friend. unsaid: we're past favors, don quixote. ]

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