When she'd claimed this room, it had already been lined with contraband books. Now, art and sculpture and everything else she had 'confiscated' filled the space, giving it a cave-like quality. V had to slip through a tunnel of canvases and slide past the jukebox to find her, on the bed in the far corner. But there she was, curled up in her quilts, staring into space.
"Well, now I know where some of it's gone," he remarked lightly. "I had rather been in the middle of reading that," he added, nodding toward a book on a tall stack of them.
He approached the bed, tilting his head to one side to look at her for a moment. A pang of regret hit him for a moment. Had what happened last night broken her?
"Would you care for something to eat?" he asked softly.
She shook her head. At least she wasn't completely unresponsive, but she wouldn't even look towards him. A humiliated, guilty blush burned high in her cheeks.
There was a slight pause and he set the bowl and mug on a nearby flat surface. He lingered for a moment as though about to say something, but presently left quietly, closing the door behind him as he went.
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He approached the bed, tilting his head to one side to look at her for a moment. A pang of regret hit him for a moment. Had what happened last night broken her?
"Would you care for something to eat?" he asked softly.
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