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Pritkin and Mircea mixed like oil and water, only not so well.
Karen Chance
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Karen Chance
Age: 24
Born: 2000
Born: January 1
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Orlando
Florida
Mixed
Oil
Water
Wells
Well
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I stared at him, unable to believe this was happening. That he could just disappear, along with everything rich and strange he’d brought into my life. Vanished, like magic.
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Pritkin muttered something that sounded fairly vicious. “My clothes are warded! Even if I wished to accede to your demand, it would not work on them.” “Then strip.” “I beg your pardon?” He sounded almost polite suddenly, as if he believed he couldn’t possibly have heard right.
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Pritkin kissed like he did everything else, straightforward, accepting no prisoners and with an intensity that left me breathless. It was hot and hard and desperate, like he was starving for it, and I opened my mouth and took it, because, God.
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To know Pritkin was to want to kill him, but so far I'd resisted temptation.
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So maybe it was just as well that my companion was more like Mulder. A coked-out Mulder with a lot of weapons, who knew that the monsters under the bed were real and would gut you.
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And why not?” “You know why! This is a bad idea.” “Perhaps I like a challenge.” “Perhaps you’re a glutton for punishment!” “Perhaps I am in love.
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Where. Is. He? Alphonse repeated, although it sounded more like Don't make me eat your face.
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They- He stopped and just blinked at me for a minute. You know, people are always saying that you're cuckoo. Looney Tunes. Off the freaking edge. But I tell 'em, no, she's okay. She's got some...anger management issues. But you know what? They're right. You're nuts.
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One day, you will say it to me again. You will be sober. And you will mean it.
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