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"He hasn't asked, Mom. You did. Are you talking to Charlie much?"

"Occasionally," shrugs Renée. "Not a lot."

Eventually cake is gone, and coffee is offered, and there is chat about other common-area bubbles that may visit Shipley or Ripper's bubble at some point, and then Bella and Ripper take their leave. She teleports them to his hallway, and knocks on his door, smirking at him.
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He laughs. "I love you," he says, and kisses her.

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Mmmkisses. Hallway kisses. He might want to "answer the door".

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Or he could just teleport them directly into his bedroom.

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That also works! Kisses kisses. Bella is mocha-flavored.

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Ripper tastes like hazelnut! Together they are some kind of delicious dessert.

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They are the most delicious dessert. Mmmm.

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Tasty.

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They are intensely tasty.

Months go by. The waiting list for resurrection is long; she torchables a lot of people but there are billions of them and they keep dying. Bella gently wheedles Aianon for niners as often as seems prudent. She revamps the interplanetary transit system when enough people have significant quantities of stuff they want to import and export. Another Olympics happens; a Cronian skier wins silver in two events. Bella is awarded the Nobel Peace Prize over her objections, gives all of the prize money to a Cronian charity that does social work on both inhabited planets, and wears her medal to formal occasions. There are more political cartoons; she starts collecting the cleverer ones, trading small magical favors for the originals, and keeps them on walls in her palace. She catches up with Sarion again, newsy little exchanges of how their worlds are going (Sarion is not an "empress", so it cannot be "empires").

And then:

[Charlie wants to meet you, now.]
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[No special warnings for him either, I guess? Sure.]

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[You might or might not get a "if you hurt her, insert vague threat here" speech. He can't do anything, he's a small-town cop and you are magic. Okay. Dinner Thursday?]

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He laughs.

[I'm okay with vague ineffectual threats. Dinner Thursday sounds good to me.]
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[That's our time zone, mind, his time zone will be claiming that it's brunch, so we're looking at breakfasty food.]

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[Oh no,] he says dryly, [breakfast at dinnertime. The horror. I may never recover.]

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[Be strong, love.]

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Ripper giggles.

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Thursday, at dinnertime, Bella knocks on Ripper's door.

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He answers, shirtfully, and gives her a hug.

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Hugs! Bella drops them in front of Charlie's house and rings the doorbell. "He doesn't mind if I teleport in myself," she says, "but doesn't want me bringing people."

Presently, Charlie opens the door. "Bella," he says, and he hugs her. "And - 'Ripper'? Everyone calls you that?"
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"Yeah," he laughs, "everybody does."

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Charlie shakes his head. "All right then. Come on in."

Breakfast is conjured - Charlie says, "Wouldn't inflict my cooking on a guest". Bella gives him squares so he can do the honors; he supplies omelets for everyone, and also bagels and fixings, and bacon. Plenty of bacon.
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"Ooh," says Ripper. "Bacon."

Om nom.
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"You like bacon?" inquires Charlie. "Good."

"Bacon is one of Charlie's favorite things," Bella tells Ripper.
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"I can tell," says Ripper.

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"So tell me about yourself," Charlie tells Ripper.

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