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Post by Silva on Jan 24, 2015 2:41:42 GMT -5
"Everyone who wants me wants a drink sooner or later." He was privately flattered, however, and petted at her soft skin accordingly.
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Post by Nina Fortner on Jan 24, 2015 2:45:14 GMT -5
She snort-laughed against his neck and headbutted his chest gently.
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Post by Silva on Jan 24, 2015 2:50:58 GMT -5
Silva caught her up in his arms and pretended to tussle with her, though only a little. "It's true, it's true! Though usually something a little stronger. I'll have to make you a vodka martini."
His smile was cheerfully ghastly.
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Post by Nina Fortner on Jan 24, 2015 2:55:28 GMT -5
"Must I have a drink? Haven't you got any juice?"
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Post by Silva on Jan 24, 2015 10:52:49 GMT -5
"I'll squeeze you an orange, how about that."
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Post by Nina Fortner on Jan 24, 2015 17:40:23 GMT -5
"Please."
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Post by Silva on Jan 25, 2015 16:48:07 GMT -5
He planted a kiss on her cheekbone and sat up a little.
"Among other things. You've gotten some sun -- it suits you."
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Post by Nina Fortner on Jan 30, 2015 1:12:56 GMT -5
She leaned forward enough to kiss the bit of skin nearest her, which happened to be on his arm. "As have you."
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Post by Silva on Jan 30, 2015 1:16:33 GMT -5
"How lucky for me that you're not one of those young women who pines away indoors." He flexed his fingers pleasantly, sending the tendons in his corded forearms rolling.
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Post by Nina Fortner on Jan 30, 2015 1:19:51 GMT -5
"I didn't pine," she argued, her fair eyebrows knitting. "I've even done a bit of kissing."
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Post by Silva on Jan 30, 2015 1:40:06 GMT -5
Silva smiled at her, twinkling-eyed and sharkish.
"A little kissing is only healthy at your age. It's good for the circulation. Do you like the fellow, or is it passionate animosity between you?"
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Post by Nina Fortner on Jan 30, 2015 1:47:00 GMT -5
"I like him," she said warily, still stretched out, naked and lovely, yet with a tension that betrayed she would never fully relax. "He's Dr. Connors."
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Post by Silva on Jan 30, 2015 1:51:45 GMT -5
"What, him? Oh, Nina, you're so soft-hearted--"
He still found it difficult to trust the science types, despite being one himself by any definition -- something about the glasses, and the suggestion of white coats. He certainly didn't like it.
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Post by Nina Fortner on Jan 30, 2015 1:55:48 GMT -5
She thought of Curt and his hand in her hair, his lips going down her throat. She might have been soft-hearted, but somehow she did not think that was why she and Curt had kissed. She was too defensive of him, however, to open up about him to Raoul and lay him bare for his scrutiny and his laughter.
"You may not like nice men, Raoul, but I do."
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Post by Silva on Jan 30, 2015 1:59:46 GMT -5
A raw rattle of laughter issued from his throat, and he stretched a little while his old bones voiced their complaints.
"How nice is he?"
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