It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade. “It seems—It’s interesting. His foot touched the rounded edge of the starling, and glanced off, precipitating him into the water. Lucy grabbed the hand cannon, stuffing it with powder, nearly missing a swing of the sword meant for her neck. Oui, dans la note. There is only Gerald to see me, after all.
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