Only a few things have changed in his room since she was here last. There's a bookcase, now, up against the wall with the bathroom door, a few odds and ends (cigarette tin, lighter, bottle of whiskey and two empty glasses stacked beside) sitting on the top of the wooden surface
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His room.
Remarkably, the first thing she thinks about isn't the last time she was in here, only a few days past, trembling and blood-stained as he laid her in his bed.
The first thing she thinks about are the paper cranes that used to sit on his dresser, but aren't there anymore. And then she notices the plants, and the bookcase.
Her attention goes to her feet, as she shrugs out of his duster.
"Thank you... for this."
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"Oh, that's...you're welcome."
Doc motions for her to come over closer so he can take it, intending on tossing it over the back of his desk chair.
(That orange crane that's gone missing from the dresser now sits perched carefully on his desk, on top of a small stack of books, bright against the dark red covers.)
His focus is on the drawer he's looking through.
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She notices the crane, absently.
Standing, a little removed, at his right side, she hugs her arms close to her body again. This time it's more subconscious, as the throb in her arm niggles at the back of her mind.
She waits.
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While he's hunting (he finds his duffel bag in the bottom drawer and places it on the top of the dresser, opening it to rifle through) he spots the photo sitting on the edge.
All six of the boys.
His voice is a little distant when he speaks up, continuing to search the bag.
"...Billy came back, while you were gone."
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