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Suddenly, he's having a hard time sitting still. Concentration is impossible. He draws a lot. He doesn't finish anything. What he does do is draw Laurence a lot, lingering over the lines of his face. Some of the drawings are more successful than others. Sprawled on one of the chairs on the porch outside the hut they share, he all but growls at himself.
He tears the page out. He starts again.
He tears the page out. He starts again.
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"My mother always said that the devil finds work for idle hands."
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He's going to be really embarrassed in a second if it's not.
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"That is what I'm talking about," he says.
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"I've known what I wanted since I was old enough to want it," he says.
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"I guess I should've brought a whole basket of muffins, huh?" he says finally, with a soft chuckle. "Do you mind if I...?" He gestures at one of the other chairs, still not entirely sure he's invited to join him.
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"I am getting very little indeed, as you say," he says, voice pained. "A goodly amount of kissing and I got my hand under his shirt the other day?"
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