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how to make money in dragonvale

datatime: 2022-11-30 06:15:05 Author:hEahSzwc

Why? He studied my face like he'd memorize it.

I shrugged. Maybe, but I still have to do it.

He shook his head. I let this happen. I'll get him out.

He clutched the flashlight tighter. Why? And somehow I thought the question was about more than the oubliette and why I had to climb inside it.

I shook my head. I'm not competing with you, Richard, or anyone else. I don't give a shit who's better or faster or braver.

I shrugged. Maybe, but I still have to do it.

To me, Richard, I have something left to prove to me.

I shook my head. I have to do it, Richard.

He shook his head. I let this happen. I'll get him out.

He shook his head. I let this happen. I'll get him out.

Why do you have to be the toughest, the bravest? Why can't you, just once, let me do something for you? Going down in the hole doesn't scare me. Let me do this for you. Please. His voice was still soft, and he was leaning into me enough so that I could smell the drying blood on him, the richness of fresh blood in his mouth, as if some small cut had not healed completely.

I held my hand out for the flashlight.

I stared back into the hole and let myself acknowledge just how afraid I was. So afraid that I could taste something flat and metallic on my tongue. So afraid that my pulse was hammering in my throat, like a trapped thing. My voice came out calm, normal. I was glad. It doesn't matter that I'm afraid. I touched the flashlight, tried to pull it from his hand, but he held on. And, short of playing tug of war -- which I would probably lose -- I wasn't getting it away from him.

Why? He studied my face like he'd memorize it.

Because it scares me, and I have to know if I can.

Why? and his voice held the first hint of anger, like a slap of warmth.

He shook his head. This isn't courage, Anita, this is stubbornness.

I shook my head. I have to do it, Richard.

I shrugged. Maybe, but I still have to do it.

Why do you have to be the toughest, the bravest? Why can't you, just once, let me do something for you? Going down in the hole doesn't scare me. Let me do this for you. Please. His voice was still soft, and he was leaning into me enough so that I could smell the drying blood on him, the richness of fresh blood in his mouth, as if some small cut had not healed completely.

Why? He studied my face like he'd memorize it.

He held on with both hands. Why do you have to do this? Just tell me that. You're so scared your mouth is dry. I can taste it on your breath.

He shook his head. This isn't courage, Anita, this is stubbornness.

I held my hand out for the flashlight.

Why? and the anger was more than a faint hint now.

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