Tara was in a good mood as the reserves gathered this afternoon, if one tinged with the slightest edge of nervous mania. Kennedy had told her just that morning that Constance was coming for the weekend. Constance the Watcher, who was going to want to meet Tara, and probably judge absolutely everything about her, and was there time for Tara to dye
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Mulling that, he stood there with his hands in his pockets, looking defiant in the face of his own memories of people long gone.
Yes, he had Opinions. God help them all.
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Impressive, that was, until you actually looked at them.
"Quite a selection of them today," he explained. "I had a bit of trouble choosing."
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Which wasn't at all weird, Alexander, thinking of your sister with romance novels, really.
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He pulled a face. "That... looks like a thing from my mom's closet," he said. Then reached for it any way. "Like a-- a Bouquetreeks." Oh god, what had he gotten himself into?
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Alexander could certainly decipher that face, yes. "They're amazingly deceptive. They do not look like much, I know. In fact, I was tempted to veer far from them myself, but the adage holds true. One must not judge a book by its cover."
By its torrid, shirt-ripping, shining muscled cover...
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"So," he asked, "you've read those?"
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Dolf frowned at himself.
"But I don't need to have to need to not."
...He had a feeling there were too many verbs in that sentence.
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"You should at leave give them a try," he encouraged. "Even if only to get a better handle on the language. They're simply enough written while still being intellectually engaging..."
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What he did understand, though, held a point. Annoyed as he was to have to concede it. "I don't know why you like these," he said, feeling a bit petulant, "But I'll try."
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"Hopefully," said Alexander, grinning, "you won't have to."
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