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Dylan

“No,” says Toe quietly. “Let me see.”

Dylan punches him, but somehow doesn’t connect. She stumbles.

“You’re stronger,” he says. “Faster. But I’ve been doing this longer.”

Toe turns her next punch into a sine wave. Dylan understands the circuit and pulls through, then kicks off the wall. It should break the hold and jam his shoulder into its socket; it doesn’t.

Instead she ends up with her arms crossed, palms back, Toe’s hand flat against her wrists. He looks at her knuckles.

“Ash?” he mutters. “That’s what it is?”

Their faces are very close. It’s unfair, how slow he’s breathing.

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