He heard Melusine cry out, but his attention was all for the nick he had made in her neck. They sat in the windowed booth at the restaurant across from each other. His quiet, kindly smile implied his serene disbelief in any confessible thing. It's gin—a liquor you used to like. But it does not sound as if the girl that wears the name resembles either of her parents. As he pocketed it, her open palm reached out and slapped his cheek.
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