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She laughs. "Why not. But I don't think they'd be annoyed."

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"It's the principle of the matter."

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"As long as we confine it to them and don't help haze any more unfortunate pairs."

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"Agreed. That wouldn't help anyone, it would be mean."

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"They weren't trying to be mean."

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"Oh, I know, but it would be if we did it to others after knowing what it's like."

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"Ah. Agreed."

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Edarial nods a little. He falls silent.

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"Keep talking. I can bring you a little water from the fountain if you're thirsty?"

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"You have a broken leg," he points out.

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"Yes, but I can haul myself over there and back, it's not so far. I've broken my legs before. Have I mentioned I really needed that anti-clumsiness spell I invented?"

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Edarial winces. "I'm so sorry."
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"It'll be fine after midnight. Do you need water?"

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"... You don't have to get it if it's too painful."

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"I'm going to take that as a yes. Besides, I've been talking too, I'm thirsty."

Her fingertips disengage from his shoulder, she tells Cricket to get off her, and she half-crawls half-drags herself to the fountain, still bubbling away.

She drinks some, and then she cups her hands and fills them up and then goes back with more use of her elbows and starts carefully feeling around for where his mouth is.
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She finds it with little trouble.

"Thank you," he says, after he's had the water.
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"You're welcome."

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She can't tell, but he smiles at her a little.

Counting. Fascinating.
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Iobel's hand settles on his shoulder again.

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Edarial hesitates, but then he takes her hand - he can find it, it's on his shoulder - to hold.

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All right then.

Handholding.
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Yup. Handholding. Also counting, wonderful counting.

After a while the numbers get a little mumbled.
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"Hey, stay with me," Iobel says sharply when he mumbles. "Awake. Awake."

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"Sorry," he mumbles. "Trying."

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"Counting's hardly the most fascinating thing in the world. What'll hold your attention, c'mon."

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