Ruvin has had several very startling realizations. The first, she's almost seventeen. In just under a week, she will be. She'd all but forgotten about birthdays.
The second--she's been in Chicago for a year, as of today. She's paused where she is, in the middle of crossing a street to look up at the sky in surprise.
Winny is standing in front of
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At the moment, she's flirting shamelessly with a clerk not far from where Aniki is standing. He's backed against the Romance section, giggling like a schoolgirl as Lucy gushes fanatically about how her dear aunt Cecilia won't take anything but the trashiest bodice rippers.
She is really sparing no detail and the poor boy is either embarrassed or turned on.
"Oh, sugar, I've done gone and talked too much, now haven't I?" She laments in a light southern accent.
"No, no!" The boy laughs, nervously. "...Actually, I think we have something like that in the back."
"Oh, you're a sweetheart," Lucy beams, chucking him under the chin and wrinkling her nose at him. He flushes and ducks under her arm, promising to return in a few moments.
Lucy watches him go and calmly removes her sunglasses, turning to the first person nearby, who just so happens to be Aniki.
"They're so cute at that age," she murmurs.
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"If you like them breakable."
Never mind the clerk is probably older than she is--he's a kid. He's acting like one, anyway, if this woman's talk and simper can get him so ready to bed her. "Might think you enjoyed leading the poor lad on. If I didn't know better, of course."
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"Oh, you know boys. If you don't put them in their places every now and then, they'll start thinkin' they run this place."
She practically sashays over to see what Aniki's been looking at. "Oh, well then! That's a surprise. You did not strike me as the kind of girl who likes fantasy."
There's a bad memory rocking around in this girl's head about those books. She always heard wanderers were fascinating creatures.
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She turns to walk down the aisle and away from this scummer-swilling bitch.
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"It's your lucky day, ma'am," he grins, handing her the book. She gently shoves it aside and gestures to the shelf that Aniki was just looking at, her bubbly, southern accent completely dropping out to be replaced by a rough, cajun drawl.
"On second though, I want everything by that author," she says, her eyes never leaving the spot where Aniki vanished off to.
As a matter of fact, it is her lucky day.
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