His blue, blue eyes, looked sad, the excited exhaustion fading in the light of memories. His body tightened around me, as if the feel of my body next to him while Jean-Claude whipped him was something he didn't want to lose. Because I could still see the memory, not in livid detail like it had been, but now it was in my head, too. Sooner or later, a voice said behind us, it matters not.
Not in the way you mean, I said. He sighed. As I'm ever going to be. No, I don't think I am.
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