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Solace (Joly): August, 1829
"Are you asleep?" Scraps of moonlight gleam through her hair like white jewels as she leans over him. Her face is hidden in shadow. Chrétien slides an arm around her shoulders to pull her closer. "Not yet." "All right." She settles against him. "Why?" Silence, from under the cloaking fall of dark hair. "'Chetta." "Only wondered." He twines a curl around his finger, watching the way it shimmers. "Going to abscond as soon as I shut my eyes?" "No!" "I wouldn't blame you," he says, suddenly glum. "Oh, stop. Anyone would think you were trying to get rid of me." Chretien hugs her tighter. "No. After the trouble I had to get this far?" Muffled laughter. "You're a terrible boy." "Oh, you don't know half of it." "Chrétien." She pokes him in the ribs, gently, and traces a finger between his shoulder blades. Gives him a tap for emphasis. "I like you." In the dark, he can't see her laughing eyes. Her voice is grave. "Hell," he says, biting down on a stammer, and just holds her, then.
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