He made it sound so easy. You look awfully happy for someone who's about to have a really bad night. It's too pale, if you get blood on it, it looks like blood. I felt a fierceness rise up through him, a desperation that made him tighten his grip on my arms, made him thrust his tongue into my mouth, and kiss me hard and eager, and angry.
He gave me a look that was so like one of Jean-Claude's that it was unnerving. The fear was drowning him out like one radio station overwhelming another. He couldn't fly, so he wouldn't try for the tall windows. Sorry, if I flattened the mood.
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