One who—who—tres. He looked just as Julian had the night she had first met him outside the Joliet Laundromat. She drew in a deep breath of the sweet mountain air. ‘I am done, Gérard. \"Are you hungry at all?\" He asked her. She nuzzled his chest and he breathed deeply of the scent of her Finesse conditioner. He was helpful, but gravely dubious.
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