[ He hates that fucking smile. The little smirk Logan wears when he's picking something apart for the hell of it, like the whole world's a private joke. He'd knock Hickey's teeth out just to put an end to it—and for a second, still wild with anger, William feels like he could.
He takes another breath, gives a shake of his head. ] It's not the same. [ Now he sounds sullen. What can he say? It's a doll, a doll in a dream. Absurd to feel protective of it—to feel it's linked to her in some way. Absurd to feel this is more than a memory, that it's a piece of him wrenched out and put on display. ]
I'm sorry, okay? [ Holding out a hand, he finds Hickey's eyes. Tells himself there's more to a person than their smile. ] Please.
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He takes another breath, gives a shake of his head. ] It's not the same. [ Now he sounds sullen. What can he say? It's a doll, a doll in a dream. Absurd to feel protective of it—to feel it's linked to her in some way. Absurd to feel this is more than a memory, that it's a piece of him wrenched out and put on display. ]
I'm sorry, okay? [ Holding out a hand, he finds Hickey's eyes. Tells himself there's more to a person than their smile. ] Please.