[ a touch like that ushers a shiver up her spine and goosebumps beneath his fingertips. she is too opium-heavy to do much more than that, at this juncture, though her heart yearns for more. to drown in him and keep the fear at bay.
a trace of good out of the bad. she has such a difficult time seeing anything other than the bad. he has always had to guide her back out of it. ]
[It is nice, isn't it? To be held and touched like this. And yet, though he might, too, submit to the heavy-lazy feeling of the opium in their veins, her remark on music has him perking up.]
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a trace of good out of the bad. she has such a difficult time seeing anything other than the bad. he has always had to guide her back out of it. ]
You lay with me like this once. You played music.
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Did I? Was I any good?
[Still?]
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