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"I'm so sorry."

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"Thank you," he murmurs.

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"You're welcome."

Here is the neighborhood of the day. Night, rather.

Crosses crosses crosses.

She lets him lurk. No demons attack them. She finishes the neighborhood and heads for home.
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When Bella is just stepping onto her driveway, Sherlock appears long enough to say, "Goodnight, fair Juliet."

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"Are you going to call me Juliet forever?" she inquires. "Because we have conversed through a window a couple of times and you recited Shakespeare at me while drunk on the vampire equivalent of stress hormones?"

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"Does it annoy you? I think it's hilarious," he says cheerfully.

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"Everyone calls me Bella except Charlie, and he calls me Bells," says Bella. "No one has ever given me a nickname of my own before. I don't suppose I'd describe myself as annoyed."

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"How would you describe yourself?"

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"Nonplussed? Amused? Ever so slightly charmed, because, you know, the Bard?"

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"Then I see no reason to stop."

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"Okay," Bella laughs. "If I think of anyplace for you to hole up during the day, I will let you know, but I'm afraid I have no immediate ideas," she adds.

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"I appreciate the thought, in any case."

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"If you burn to a crisp due to homelessness, who will call me Juliet and lurk around while I patrol?"

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"Ah, a pragmatist. I'm charmed."

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"Always a pragmatist," agrees Bella. She yawns. "I need to get at least five hundred words of utter bullshit to cohere into the approximate shape of an English paper before I crash. See you tomorrow, Sherlock."

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"Goodnight," he says, smiling, and departs.

Here Ends This Thread
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