Hopefully, everyone still had a little socialization in them yesterday after the mixer. There was still plenty of Tamsin's booze reserves to be shared, which would go nicely with all of the breakfast foods being served.
Each of the tables had a pot of coffee as well, just in case that was needed. There was no glitter in the coffee, promise.
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But here he was. Piling a small mountain of food onto his plate because hey, a guy had to eat.
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That was how she managed to get so close before the scent hit him. Sure, her face was older but you couldn't fool a fox. He knew who she was.
He stared, bewildered.
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She paused.
"I can go. If it's easier."
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Stupid question. Had to be an island thing, a cruel, cruel island thing, he'd lived here long enough to know that.
But he hadn't fully ruled out a psychotic break yet, either.
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A small, petty portion of her wanted to tell him that he was dead, too, but she ignored it. It wasn't his fault that it hurt to have everyone give her the same look he was wearing now.
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"Right."
His mouth felt dry. And that was nothing compared to the twisting feeling in his gut.
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And then he had died. And she'd only found out weeks after the fact, so she'd missed any memorials that might have been arranged for him.
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No, really. Regular flavor Ezra was currently unavailable. All his senses were on high alert, and his eyes darted, briefly, up and down her body. And it wasn't anything flirty or lustful or dirty, it was more like he was checking she was there.
He was just standing there, frozen.
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And she was closing the distance between them.
For all that it was disconcerting to have Ezra look at her without even a pretense at lust, he was still her friend. He'd been her first, he'd helped draw her out of his shell, and he'd cared about her, in his own way. "I'd like to give you a hug," she admitted. "Like I said, I've missed you."
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The part of his brain that never fully shut down made note of the knives. Occupational hazard. Not really a concious thought at all.
He didn't move. "... Okay." That was permission, probably. It wasn't like he was capable of denying her things now.
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Sometimes she could be a little selfish.
She stepped right into his personal space and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. He was still taller than she was, still smelled the same as she remembered from high school, still had that lithe, deceptively-muscular build that you didn't notice until you touched him. "Oh, Ez," she whispered, holding him tight.
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Ezra didn't move, either.
This should've felt like absolution. Her familiar scent in his nose, the warmth of her body against his, her whispered words in his ear, it should all have felt like he was being forgiven for the sin of not doing anything to save her, because that was what he wanted, wasn't it? But it didn't feel like that.
At all.
It just felt false. Because she wasn't her. The simple fact that she was here at all, older and alive meant that she wasn't really Kathy to him. She was just... someone luckier.
So he remained frozen while his stomach turned.
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Not a friend.
So she let go long before she wanted to and stepped away again. "I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have--that was selfish."
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