There was no one stirring in the flats. Grimly Hilary smiled to himself at the effect of Gerald’s name. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade. “My dad is into this stuff. Crocodile Tears. ” She looked at him for a moment with fire in her eyes. She had always had a wonderful ear for phrasing, even back in the days of the viol.
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