Dec 05, 2007 19:03
After his fun weekend away visiting Parker (an unexpected side-trip of which had delayed his return), Ronan whistled as he bustled around the clinic before settling at the front counter.
isabel evans,
thursday next,
ftec,
ronan nolan
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She set Ronan's hot chocolate on the counter and carefully opened the lid on her own. "Your's is plain. I went for mint for myself tonight. It's like drinking a Girl Scout cookie."
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Blood pooled in his palm, and he began speaking the words of the healing spell, drawing out the pain, drawing out the knife, doing what he could to close the wound and replenish Thursday's own blood.
All at once, it was done, the bullet itself resting in Ronan's palm next to the scar, which was once again thin and healed. The bullet-wound itself was closed, slightly puckered, the pink of a new scar.
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