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Post by Chantrice Ramsey on Sept 16, 2012 21:20:11 GMT 1
She honestly didn’t think they’d cart him away if they got in trouble but the possibility of it had her almost crushed under the guilt such a consequence would bring. In addition to that, Chantrice was fairly certain that, if they did try to grab Rick with her, she could at least distract them long enough (or cause enough of a fuss) that they’d focus on her. It wasn’t ideal but it was a sort-of plan… Ish.
“O-Okay!” Her face was on fire. It just had to be. She’d never heard someone so casually say they were going off to perform… services for their master/mistress but the way he had seemed very relaxed. He wasn’t nervous (about that, at least) or scared at all, completely comfortable. She was obviously a nice mistress to him. Four hours of meditation was more than Chantrice thought she would personally do but, looking down at the light scars on the pads of her fingers, she understood dedication to a way of life.
“Okay. Stay safe,” murmuring as her brain tried to restart itself, she shook her head rapidly. She was not going to get all doe-eyed and whatnot. It just wasn’t… It wasn’t how she was, regardless that her heart was trying to beat its way out of her chest and that her eyes were wide as he left. She shook herself again. A small noise of frustration escaped her as she headed to her apartment to change into her boots—never know when a zombie might need a good kick to the face—and then to practice.
Her father had been, well surprised was definitely a good word for it, that someone else was going to be joining them. It wasn’t common knowledge that they tested the guns they repaired in such a way as to be certain they would hold up under pressure. It could also be seen as extraordinarily stupid to be testing them in that particular way but, as far as Chantrice knew, they’d never gotten any complaints about any of the guns restored, repaired, or otherwise.
“Why weren’t you paying attention, Chantrice?” “You’re teaching him to shoot? On your left!” “That was sloppy!” “Focus!” “You missed!?”
She had not missed. The zombie had lurched to the right and her bullet had gone into his eye instead between them as intended. She wasn’t distracted! Her father had not believed her and when Rick had appeared, slowing down from his run—that got her a question too—he had just finished scolding her on why she needed to not kick zombies’ heads off and instead just shoot them like he’d taught her. In her defense, she hadn’t known the head was going to fly off in his direction but the look on his face when it did, had been worth it.
Watching Rick, she smiled and waved back. He was very sweet in that ‘he probably doesn’t realize it’ way and she found it endearing. The heat from returned with only a fraction of its power and, spying his blush, her mind started producing possible causes which made her flush more. Taking a deep breath, she forced it back down to the depths it’d crawled from.
If the way her father was semi-glaring at her was any indication, he was not impressed by her reaction at all. He declared that he was “going to go home to get more ammo” and “could they please try to not die before he got back?” The fact that her father was leaving made her raise her eyebrows. It was a big sign of trust for her surly old man to leave her with someone he didn’t know to go get ammo. Which he didn’t need to do? The full .50 caliber ammo box right beside her spoke volumes. Sure, it was obviously old but she’d received it on her fourteenth birthday and she loved it. Dull green and amazing, she’d said.
“Erm, it was a rough practice?” The bits of dust and dirt she was covered in, and her somewhat messy hair, attested to this. Rolling away from zombies that snuck up on you when your mind was busy conjuring up images of things she didn’t need to be thinking about just then had the tendency to do that.
((Oh, wow. I seriously didn't think it was going to be so long of a post. I'm sorry!))
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Post by Rick Alamaign on Sept 20, 2012 0:40:15 GMT 1
Rick watched the interaction between Chantrice and her father. Inwardly he wondered what it would be like to have a father again; to have someone to teach him to shoot and fight and all the other things parents taught their children. The man seemed irritated that he had come. He didn’t like that feeling and was about to excuse himself with apologies when the man left.
“I…” he began and looked at the retreating man then looked at Chantrice, “I didn’t mean to be in intruder.” He finished. He felt really bad that he had made her father leave. He knew if he had a father he would not want his friends to make him uncomfortable enough to make him leave. He wasn’t even sure what he did. People who didn’t like other people just because they were breathing or just because they existed made him sad.
He didn’t want to focus that though. He removed the gun from under his shirt and handed it to Chantrice. He may not have known how to fire one but he knew it did need to be loaded and he didn’t know how to load it either. “You’re going to have to show me how to shoot this thing but it isn’t loaded so I think you better take it.” He said as he handed it to her. There was not one person in the world who could claim that he was not careful, he had been taught to be by his mistress.
He spotted a rifle leaned up against a post and his mouth just watered to try it. I always thought rifles were the coolest weapons the VSF carried. “Hey, do you think I can try that? I’ve always thought rifles were really cool.” He hoped she would show him how to use that weapon more so than the handgun.
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Post by Chantrice Ramsey on Sept 23, 2012 5:02:29 GMT 1
“No! You’re not an intruder, he’s just… He’s just like that. Even with me.”
She felt so horrible that she and her father had made him uncomfortable. It really wasn’t Rick’s fault her father was gruff old man with emotional constipation—not she’d ever say that to his face, she liked life. The words she wanted to say, to use, all seemed to tangle up in her throat and she was stuck with frantic and slightly wild hand motions that didn’t really have an explanation. Her cheeks grew hot again as she sighed and gave up trying to explain.
Looking down at the handgun he’d handed her, she smiled a half-smile at him and knelt down to the ammo box. “The rifle?” Biting her lip and tilting her head, Chantrice took a moment to think, fingers fiddling with the latches on the box. It wouldn’t hurt anything if he tried. It was the rifle she’d used and been taught with so she knew how to care for it. “I suppose it’s alright. Rifles are better for long range though, so if a zombie—I’m assuming you won’t be mauled by anything else—if zombie get too close, hit it to put some space between it and you.” It was common sense but most people tended to freeze up, so better safe than sorry.
Setting the still empty handgun down next to box, she grabbed a handful of bullets and stuffed them in a pocket. She closed the distance between her and the rifle and, quickly checking to make certain it was empty, she carried it over to Rick with the muzzle pointed down. No use scaring anyone above them.
“Here, test the weight.”
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Post by Rick Alamaign on Sept 25, 2012 9:52:51 GMT 1
Rick listened to the girl as she spoke but he also watched her with an intensity unrivalled by any vampire. The first thing she noticed was that she unloaded the weapon. For the second time, she had offered him a weapon that had no purpose. He supposed he could hit the zombie in the head with the back end of it but he really didn't want to get that close.
He took the gun and held it. All he did was stand there and look at her. What did she want him to do with it? He couldn't try it, he couldn't fire it, it was empty. Finally, he handed it back to her. "It's a nice gun. Pretty light. But, I don't think it will work without bullets."
Maybe it was because if he asked his mistress for a gun, she would have given it to him, loaded, with as many bullets as he wanted. Maybe he should ask her for one. One his eighteenth birthday she had told him he was not a child anymore. He could do what he wanted and make his own decisions as long as he promised to be careful. She had started teaching him to be a man at 15 as far as pleasing her but had not unleashed him on the world until she felt he was old enough. He honestly felt like maybe Chantrice thought he was too immature or innocent for a loaded weapon. He would like the opportunity to show her just how much of a man he was.
Just by watching her, he knew how to put the bullets in, but it was not his gun, it was hers and he would not presume to load it. "It's OK if you don't want to give me a loaded gun, I'll just learn by watching." he said and smiled.
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Post by Chantrice Ramsey on Sept 26, 2012 6:58:30 GMT 1
Chantrice immediately blushed and shook her head quickly. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to give him a loaded gun; it was that she didn’t know… well, anything regarding him and guns. But then, she’d never asked him either. The fault lied with her and she could’ve just shot herself in the foot for the all good the realization did after the fact.
“I wasn’t… I didn’t… I just didn’t really know if you had been around guns before or if you were…” She stopped here and looked up at the sky, trying to think of the word she wanted. Damn, what was it again? It was right there… “Oh! Uncoordinated! I was trying to think if you were uncoordinated when it came to handling guns. I’m sorry.” She trailed off with a murmured apology and quickly loaded the rifle, holding it out for him to take while she made certain the rifle wasn’t pointed at either of their feet. That would’ve hurt.
She supposed she could take him out to the Wastes with the ammo box swinging in her hand and tell him to have at it. It worked for her, after all. Her eyes unfocused slightly as she started reasoning with herself on the pros and cons of just shoving him out there and covering him while he learned to shoot. Biting her lip, she made a small noise of disapproval and quickly shunted that idea to the backburner. She needed to gauge his accuracy.
Snapping out of her thoughts, she pointed to a fairly good-sized target stationed maybe thirty or thirty-five feet away. There was a paper stuck to the front of it, doing little to hide the holes of past uses. They could use that to check his aim. She’d even drawn a smiley face on the paper target-person’s face area.
“Shoot that.” She accompanied her statement with a mimicked position of how he was supposed to hold the rifle so the kick didn't leave a bruise after the traning. He didn’t need her to tell him but really, she just didn’t know what to say. If she stuck to simple things, then maybe her heart would stop trying to beat its way out of her chest and maybe she could stop being a complete idiot. Now that she thought about it, this was probably why her father had left. Edgar Ramsey had never had much patience for her bouts of idiocy, ever.
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Post by Rick Alamaign on Sept 29, 2012 14:34:07 GMT 1
Being uncoordinated was something that nobody had ever thought Rick would be. His mistress tells him that if a single raindrop fell from the sky, Rick could catch it. She used to test him by tossing things at him out of the blue just to see if he would catch it. He caught it every time, no matter what it was.
"Oh..." he said softly before she took the gun back to load it. He didn't want to tell her that he had never fired on but he had seen one fired plenty of times. He watched her load the gun, making note of each and every step she took. Once he held the gun again, he waited to listen to her instruction.
He was surprised that she merely pointed and said 'Shoot that'. He tilted his head sideways and looked at the target. It was not very far away as he watched it flutter some in the breeze. "Uh, OK." he said and lifted the rifle to aim. "I'm going to assume you mean for me to hit the face between the eyes, OK?" he asked before moving his feet apart slightly for balance. His mind took over and shot variables through his head. Once the wheels stopped spinning and the odds were calculated, he fired, hitting the target dead center.
He lowered the rifle and looked at Chantrice curiously, "Was that good for a first time? I'm sure I can do better, here let me try one more." He turned back to the target and aimed carefully again. Once again he fired, hitting the target in the exact same place. He turned and handed the rifle to her, "That was fun." he smiled.
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Post by Chantrice Ramsey on Oct 3, 2012 5:25:17 GMT 1
“Yep! I know it’s not a very ‘professional’ way to approach this but I thought maybe we should check your natural accuracy and positioning to—“
Eyes wide and glued to the target—the would-have-been-dead-target—and her mouth open in stunned disbelief, Chantrice tried to get her mind wrapped around this latest development. It was a perfect shot! Not just a good one, but a perfect one, on the first try. And the second try as well, apparently. That was incredible—it was simply amazing. She’d managed to essentially shoot the target through the bridge of his nose her first try but now she was just immensely curious.
Looking at Rick and then down at the rifle and then back at him, her mouth formed the words but no sound came out. She couldn’t fathom how he’d done that on his first try, his first time ever shooting a gun. Had he been around guns before? Was that how he’d learned, from watching? Could you even learn from just watching?! Did he have a teacher? … Well, that would be embarrassing, wouldn’t it? A tiny tendril of jealousy rose up inside her but if she was honest with herself, and she very often was, who wouldn’t be at least a teeny bit jealous of that skill?!
“Was that your first time?” Really, brain, really? That is what you choose to allow through, Chantrice thought miserably as her face lit up again and she face palmed, groaning lightly. Whilst the majority of her brain seemed hell-bent on making certain she was completely mortified by the end of their “outing”, the minority noted that Rick’s balance seemed to be pretty spot on and he’d even adjusted when he didn’t feel the first shot was quite right. Shifting slightly, to make move the rifle so that if it went off, it wouldn’t injure/kill anyone, she just nodded. First times were often fun.
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Post by Rick Alamaign on Oct 6, 2012 19:26:37 GMT 1
Rick noticed things, everything around him as a matter of fact. He could tell you how many birds flew by while he had been out there, he could tell how many ants hand entered the nearby ant hill, he could tell you which way the wind was blowing and what time it was by the casting of shadows. He could also tell that Chantrice was not happy at all about what he had done. He must have done something wrong. A worried look crossed his face. If he did something wrong and complained to the VSF, he might get taken away from his mistress and be killed or worse, sent to be a blood slave for a vampire who didn't treat him as nicely. That frightened him. He would run before he let anyone take him from her. He also knew she would run away with him.
“I…I’m sorry?” he was sure he needed to apologize because she looked really cross. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry.” He repeated the apology. God, if she turned him in for something… “What…just tell me what I did wrong, I promise not to do it again.” He pleaded, “They’ll take me away…” he hoped she wouldn’t say she didn’t care. Then in a small voice he said, “I, I don’t want to be taken away.” All he had ever hoped for was his freedom and he was going to have that when his Mistress day-walked. She had spent a decade preparing him for that day and it was coming up very soon. Was the dream too good to be true? Was his world about to crumble for the second time?
Maybe if he ran before she could turn him in, for whatever he did wrong, he could get away, move to a new city… “Maybe, I should go.” He turned and looked back toward the inner part of the city. That’s right, get back to his mistress before she could complain. Even if he didn't know what he did, he probably shouldn't hang around long enough to find out. “I won’t be any more of a bother.”
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Post by Chantrice Ramsey on Oct 10, 2012 6:36:42 GMT 1
“Whoa whoa whoa!” Setting the rifle down quickly, Chantrice reached out and grasped his forearm in a firm but not—she hoped—harshly tight grip. He made leaps of logic she really wasn’t following and she had somehow ended up scaring him with her words. Or her face. She wasn’t the best at controlling her facial expressions when she was thinking about something else. Her father had once told her that if she didn’t stop making ‘that face’ while thinking, it would stick like that.
She shook her head and gave him a worried and confused look, a small smile creeping onto her lips. “You don’t need to apologize, Rick. Why would you?” The million credit question: What the hell just happened? Maybe her questions had been taken the wrong way or maybe she asked them in a way or a tone that had been horribly misconstrued because she sure as hell wasn’t going to let him be taking away for something he hadn’t done (she ignored the little voice in the back of her head that said that his shooting the gun probably hadn’t been entirely legal).
“You’re not a bother and you don’t have to go, hon…” Moving so she was standing in front of him in case he decided to take off anayway, she tilted her head to the side as she thought about what she could've said that made it so that they were here and not still practicing. "What's wrong?" she murmured, looking up at him and placing her hand on his chest to help him focus on her, just in case of course.
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Post by Rick Alamaign on Oct 14, 2012 9:51:09 GMT 1
Now Rick was really confused. Wasn't she just angry with him for something? She looked angry, or at least steamed about something. It was right after he fired at the target so that had to be it. Now she was keeping him from leaving. Was she stalling him? Had her father gone to report him for being out here to begin with and they were going to come and get him? No, she wouldn't do that. She wouldn't have set him up that way. He wouldn't believe that but right then he was feeling a little paranoid.
"Well, you're angry with me." he answered her question as to why he would apologize. "I don't know what I did to anger you but when a blood slave steps out of line, they apologize, even if they don't know what they did wrong. It doesn't matter if they know, as long as they are sorry." he ran a hand nervously through his hair.
"What's wrong?"
Her question held no logic for him since she was the one that was angry and he had no clue why she was. "I...I don't know." he stammered, confused, "Why are you angry?" Maybe if he knew why, he could correct it. "I just did as you said." he added so she would know that he was at least trying to do it right.
Rick looked down at her hand on his chest. The mixed signals were really confusing him. Was his desire to get to know her better not the reason he wanted to come in the first place? Did he not want to form some kind of intimate relationship with her? He figured he was already in trouble and he was not going to get locked up or killed without tasting her lips just one time.
Rick suddenly leaned down and kissed her tenderly, in a very romantic way. He leaned back up and looked down at her, "If my life is going to go to hell, at least I can take that with me for comfort. Everyone needs a happy place." he murmured.
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Post by Chantrice Ramsey on Oct 17, 2012 7:27:43 GMT 1
“No, I know you did! I’m not angry, you were—“
Chantrice felt the slight tension in her forehead as she went cross-eyed trying to keep him in sight. Her face erupted in red and she almost forgot to breathe for a full minute as her brain restarted. Exhaling, finally, her mind caught up with her and the rush of fear and excitement and disbelief ebbed away to be replaced with a guilt, for scaring him, and a small hope that she dare not even try to encourage. Not yet.
“—amazing… Rick, I would never report you for something like that, especially not when I asked you to do it in the first... place... Why did you...?” Blabbering on, still wide-eyed and pink-cheeked, seemed to be the only thing she could really make herself as she still tried to register the fact that Rick had just kissed her. And very well at that. Oh, it wasn't her first kiss but it was her sweetest by far.
Rick was really too sweet a guy to be someone else's slave, she thought, lips tingling with a small smile tugging at her lips. Rather impulsively, she later thought, she hugged him and shook her head. "You're not... Your life isn't going..." Full sentences escaped her, but Chantrice hoped the fragments were enough to reassure him.
With a sigh, she stepped back a bit to breathe properly and karma struck! Promptly tripping backward, somewhat spectacularly, her arms windmilled out in an futile effort to steady herself. In between the tripping and falling, she was honestly convinced she’d kicked out at Rick because her body was incapable of behaving in any rational fashion.
By this point, Chantrice was very much enamored with the dirt and dust between her feet, resting her head on her knees while her wish to disappear, to have done literally anything but that, transformed into a mantra amongst thoughts pertaining to why she had done that and how could she be a complete klutz now, of all times?
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Post by Rick Alamaign on Nov 1, 2012 22:07:08 GMT 1
It did not go beyond Rick that Chantrice went crosseyed as she tried to focus on him. That, at least was an indication that she liked the kiss he gave her. He would have done it again and he was completely focused on the look on Chantrice face and didn't anticipate or predict the fact that she would fall. For a moment he was dumbstruck until he felt the impact of her kick.
Have you ever had a moment in time where the world seemed to stand still, keeping you in a blissful frozen state for the count of about three seconds? If you had then you would know that these moment are most often preceeded by time catching up at blinding speed and hitting you with such force as to suck your breath away as if you were suddenly standing in a vaccuum.
Now it was Ricks turn to go crosseyed as his hands moved to cup over his most sensitive body part. Rick felt like someone sucked the air out of him as the pain fired through his groin and up into his gut, taking all the strength out of his knees. Rick saw stars as he fell to the ground, curled into a fetal position. One might say that grown men to cry but this situation called for a stay of judgement as tears filled his eyes and squeaked a long whimper.
This was not like just any pain. It was one that not only radiated up into ones entire body, it also radiated outward, affecting any and all males in the vicinity.
Rick's face turned red then purple as he forgot to breathe due to the pain radiating from his groin, robbing him of all strength and coherency. Where was he? How did he get there? He had no idea. All Rick knew was he was in a spinning, nauseating world of stomach turning pain unlike anything he had ever felt before.
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Post by Chantrice Ramsey on Nov 6, 2012 7:15:42 GMT 1
Oh God, she thought she’d caught him in the shin! His…. Well, a small part of her brain may’ve thought that his “shin” was… not as shin-like as it could have been but she had been falling and her judgment surely could not be counted on as “trustworthy” just then.
Why?! Was he alright? Well, no, obviously not, she thought, body frozen in disbelieving shock and horror at what she had just, however inadvertently, done. And in reaction to a kiss, no less, her brain rather unhelpfully supplied. “Are you—“the words nearly choked her as she got to her knees and hovered near him, unable to risk touching him for fear it would somehow make the pain worse.
Ice! Did she have any? No, that was not an easy thing to get in New Vegas and the only items she had with her even remotely linked to healing were some old, but good, disinfectant and some bandages, along with the standard Use This or Die first aid kit. Why the one thing she had that made her genetically different from the average human could not have been healing or something related to it, she did not know. She honestly did not see how either of her mutations could aid this situation. At all.
She worried her lip and risked lightly touching his shoulder. The sense of pain, muted as it was, made her eyes well up again. She was such an awful person! Non-horrible people don’t make others’ groins hurt, right? Or turn their faces purple! “Rick! I know you don’t want to, but you need to breathe! Please! Force your lungs to work through the pain…” She stayed leaned down close to him, watching his chest very closely for signs of a rhythmic breathing pattern. Eyes wide and barely breathing herself, Chantrice continued to quietly urge Rick to concentrate less on the pain and more on breathing as she rubbed his arm in what was, hopefully, a soothing manner.
She was so making this up to him somehow.
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Post by Rick Alamaign on Nov 11, 2012 4:21:36 GMT 1
Breathing…what was that exactly? Rick tried to uncross his eyes and look at the soothing voice coming from the person standing over him. Who was she? Oh, yeah, Chantrice. Rick let out his lungful of air slowly in what sounded like a strangled groan and summarily began panting. “My…my…oh god.” He gasped, “My nuts…why…why did you kick….oh god, my nuts.” He whined as his eyes watered heavily and he curled into a tighter ball on the ground.
Several explosions nearby caused him to jerk and try to look but he was much more comfortable curled up so he didn’t see the laser pulses popping off on the zombies on the other side of the fence.
”YOU HAVE ENTERED A RESTRICTED AREA” came over a loud speaker, ”IF YOU NEED ASSISTANCE, PLEASE SIGNAL THE GUARD TOWER.”
Rick just knew he was done for now if they didn’t get out of there. “Please, help me up.” He moaned as he rolled over, pulling his knees under him. “I need an ice pack, or something.” He groaned as he tried to stand up while holding onto his balls. This wasn’t funny at all but to an onlooker it may have been seen as a comical display. He pulled one foot up and planted it under himself and pushed hard. His muscles didn’t want to work from the weak state the impact had put him in.
Rick realized what had happened and knew that Chantrice did not mean to kick him where she had. Perhaps she had meant to kick him in the shin but struck higher because she fell. “I know…you didn’t mean to.” He grunted, “But…please, help me…take me where I can…get some ice.” He moaned and stumbled, almost falling to the ground again. “I have never felt this kind of pain.” He added as he tried to straighten his posture.
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Post by Chantrice Ramsey on Nov 14, 2012 6:22:29 GMT 1
Chantrice startled when the voice shouted at them from the loudspeaker, tightening her grip on Rick’s arm as he struggled to push himself to his feet. She immediately shifted her weight so as to help push him upright; to support him as they very slowly started to move. She didn’t want exactly want to move him but, well, not many said ‘No’ to the VSF these days anymore. Not after the first few disappeared.
“I didn’t mean to,” she muttered lowly, waving away vaguely in the direction the voice had come from. Hopefully they would take that to mean that no, they didn’t need their help and yes, they were leaving, however gently she help him move. “And you never have to ask.” She always helped her friends and if this didn’t make them awkward acquaintances at the very least, she was at a loss as to what did.
As she helped support Rick’s weight, a portion of her thoughts wandered to the question of when, exactly, that had been a Restricted Area. Her father had never said anything and, though Rick probably had taken it as offense to him, her father had been especially antsy to leave—even for the rather stoic Edgar Ramsey. Had it always been a Restricted Area? Was that why he had told her that it was their “little secret” whenever she had lessons with her mother? She suddenly wished she hadn’t snubbed her mother’s attempts to train some grace into her clumsy self as another of Rick’s groans reached her ears and tugged at her heartstrings.
“We’ll get you plenty of ice, buckets even. Well, probably not but enough that you won’t be in pain anymore and that’s good! And I’ll keep as far from ever kicking you ever again as I can, okay? And then I’ll make sure you won’t spontaneously die if I leave or because of something I did and I may or may not have to move you suddenly—“ Wincing slightly, she shifted her position to better prop him up. This, unfortunately, involved moving him in a small upward motion fairly quickly. “—I am so sorry! I figured it was better to beg forgiveness than ask permission in a situation like this. Where do you even live? I have no idea…” That’s it, Chantrice. Talk as quickly as you can because the only thing that really matters right now is that you do not get lost trying to help him get home, she thought with a silent sigh.
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