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... ress — collar open, robe slipped from one shoulder, fabric arranged in a way that was either entirely accidental or the work of someone who’d practiced looking accidentally compelling. His skin caught the lamplight like the artist had been showing off. Dark hair against pale linen. Features that were, objectively, the kind of thing that caused people to walk into furniture.
His eyes were open.
Dazed, half-lidded, warm with something that was legible even across the room. He looke ...
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