That he now had bookshelves and a chair that sat next to a fireplace in which to read was a marvel. At first, the creature had crouched in his room long after the workmen had left, not daring to touch. It was only late that night when he'd lit the fire, sat in the chair, moving it to place it just right. He hadn't slept; it felt too decadent, too
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She pauses as she spies The Creature, her face blank and calm. Her tail comes around as if to touch him (but it stops short) and she says, as one might remark upon the weather, "You must be a fearsome warrior."
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Personal space? Define it, for dragons have no such concept.
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"I w-would l-like to pl-play the mu-music you play-yed for me," he said, fingers twitching at his sides as he remembered, feeling so bare, so raw with her.
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"Hi," Lana said cheerfully. "Welcome. Let me know if there's anything I can help you with."
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(ooc: hee!)
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And then she realized what must have happened.
"Oh! You must have met Catherine Chandler. We... we look pretty identical."
[ooc: I couldn't resist!]
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This wasn't Catherine lying to him, was it? How cruel that would be.
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