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Ooh, holding hands. Holding hands is delightful.

"The occasional bullet is a small price to pay, really."
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"The occasional bullet is not the price of admission. Although I do appreciate the circumstances under which you took that first."

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"All in a night's work," he says. "You would be upset if your father were mauled by demons; therefore so would I."

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"You're sweet," Bella accuses.

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"Never," he says indignantly, and then winks.

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"I would know," she says loftily, "I tasted you. I declare you sweet."

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He laughs.

"In that case, who am I to argue?"
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"No one whatever," she says. "In fact, I think you might be fictional."

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"Ouch," he deadpans, and then laughs again.

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She grins at him. She likes him. She probably would've kissed him herself within a day or two.

There's her house.

"I don't know if Charlie's looking out the window, but - lemme find out some way to explain you to him before risking it, okay?" she says ruefully, letting go of Sherlock's hand. "It might take me a while to come up with something sufficiently likely to leave your next favorite coat intact."
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"As you like," he says, smiling.

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"G'night, Sherlock," she says, and she backs away a few steps before turning and heading into her house.

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"Night, love."

Off he goes.
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...That is an interesting thing for him to have called her.

She wonders if it's a Britishism, calling people "love" regardless of emotional content. (Giles doesn't do it, though.) (It could be regional, or just Sherlock, and still not mean -) (Or it could go right ahead and mean that, and would this be so bad? It wouldn't. He was unproblematic about liking her. He'll be unproblematic about loving her. All right then, so it doesn't matter beyond its being sweet. For now.)

She doesn't find Amariah, does find - and clean up - the note left in honey, and goes to bed.

She shows up at study hall the next day with only the progress made on her borrowed books that Mr. Giles saw her make at his house while Amariah did spellcasting.
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Mr. Giles makes no comment on this, just greets her with a friendly hello.

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"Amariah went home," she tells him, picking up where she left off, and switching to Latin catch-up when she finishes the book she's partway through. "Found a door last night when I wasn't in shouting distance and went through."

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"I see," he says. "Well, that explains why she's not here."

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"Yup. I hope I run into her again someday but there aren't any guarantees. I don't blame her for taking the first door home, though, she's got her own stuff going on and it was very kind of her to visit."

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"Yes it was," he agrees.

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"When I'm done reading through your instruments of stalling for time - are you starting to form any ideas on how to go about teaching me other stuff?"

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"Starting to, yes," he says.

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"Can I have inklings?"

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"Finish your stalling homework," he says with a slight smile.

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She sticks out her tongue, and goes back to alternating between Latin and demonology until the bell rings to send her to her next designated location.

She returns after school and gets out her stalling homework again.
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"Hello again," says Mr. Giles.

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