A minute ago, he'd been watching a movie. John Trent still had the popcorn bucket in his hand -it was one of the super-sized ones, so it was still half-full- and had a handful of greasy kernels halfway to his mouth. Without a word, he dropped the popcorn back into the bucket and wiped his hands on his pants leg. He smelled like fake butter and
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On the other hand, at least she could be fairly certain this wasn't some elaborate, twisted Damien Thorn mindgame.
"What's with all the crosses?"
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"Whose book? I, um. Don't read a lot that ain't for school. Mama made me read the Bible, but she wouldn't let me have much else."
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"Waal, I like the lighter blues. The darker ones don't look so good on me, but I got nothin' in particular against 'em. Why?"
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