He just stares at her a moment. "Alright. Well, aside from the murder, that doesn't sound like a terrible plan. Is there - anything else you want to tell me before I go and listen for myself?"
She untangles one hand from her hair, to flip reluctantly through the pages again.
But she's not reading from it when she recites: "'Skitter is an unpredictable young woman tending towards acts of apparent kindness to those she deems her subjects and bursts of sudden and extreme violence towards those she sees as her enemies.' Someone wrote that about me, a few months back, to distribute and warn people. Pretty accurate, except for the subjects thing. They were just under my protection."
Taylor chews the inside of her cheek. "I'll be glad it's you when we're through this bit. But right now, I wish it was a stranger I could just be Skitter at."
"God yes." She exhales gustily, shoving the file away from herself as she gets to her feet. Yesterday, she'd wanted to read this thing. Today she feels like it's a bomb still ticking.
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But she's not reading from it when she recites: "'Skitter is an unpredictable young woman tending towards acts of apparent kindness to those she deems her subjects and bursts of sudden and extreme violence towards those she sees as her enemies.' Someone wrote that about me, a few months back, to distribute and warn people. Pretty accurate, except for the subjects thing. They were just under my protection."
She shakes her head, tired of this already.
"I'm a lot, Rags."
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Still.
"You aren't any more than you were yesterday," he reminds her.
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He deepens his voice. "Listen to me. I am a very serious stranger. I don't know anything about you."
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"Now who's the smartass."
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"Put that away, please?"
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