Susan topped off Peter’s glass. “So, what of this woman roaming Oxfordshire who is a friend of the Professor’s and the very image of Dinan?”
“Who?”
“Peter, you did not just say that. Dinan. The Silver Birch? Your lover for over five years in Narnia!”
“Oh. Her.”
“Her,” Susan repeated. Honestly, Peter was so hopelessly male.
Peter
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(also, you are the sweetest and most nice, omg, thank you so much for the rec on halfamoon, I was not expecting to see myself in your list there! it kind of made my evening)
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And Edmund is totally alarmist. He sits in for the fandom that would be all OMG!!!! WHAT DOES IT MEAN???!!! To which the answer is, nada. Total red herring. I'm very bad.
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And Susan then to deliver the final zinger.
Poor Mary. It's a good thing she doesn't know about this or she'd feel even more insecure than she already does as she learns over and over and over that alas she is not the center of all things or indeed much of anything.
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