"He sounds like a peach," says Dean, feeling better for the way her eyes focus on him, hopes that if her gaze holds long enough, there won't be any room for butterflies. He rolls his shoulders, back straight. Big enough to fill her vision. Takes her hands and holds them so she can feel him.
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Date: 2012-02-16 11:01 pm (UTC)"But you got away. You stopped him somehow."