I stepped toward him, trying with every part of me not to limp or flinch, lest he bear witness to my discomfort. “Perhaps you had not considered that I might rather grow cold beneath the heel of your former lover than join you in your insignificant bed. Or that I might prefer the sting of failure over enduring the torment of your body close to mine, or the incessant noise of the thing you call music, or the vile taste of your precious, revolting Hemwe, piss of the Talus captured in a cup. But no. Perhaps you hadn’t thought of that. You were too busy thinking about your own Talus-forsaken
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