But I'd forgotten that there were dead near at hand that weren't underground. Richard's hands searching for a headboard that wasn't there, searching for something to hold on to. The cloak was black, but his slacks were not. He looked strangely suspicious, and I realized that it was my expression in his eyes, more than his, as if I'd taught him that look, and this caution.
He took my hands, and I almost jerked away, but I made myself stand there and let him touch me. There was a fake spiderweb against one wall big enough to hang someone from. I want you to want me. His lips touched mine, and the door vanished.
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