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Proserpina

“Elijah,” he says, and sticks out his hand.

“A gentleman, Elijah,” says Proserpina, “would take my hand first.”

“You’re not one for the gentle,” he grins.

“That’s an ugly assumption,” she says. Behind her, Radiane hammers the bell and yells for the combatants to break their clinch.

“I’ve seen you at the fights, in your smudge and breeches. Not fooling everyone.”

“Don’t follow me again,” she says coldly.

“I don’t have to, now.”

“You’re displaying an unseemly interest.”

“Another thing we have in common,” he says, and attempts to disappear into the shadows, except she watches him all the way out.

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