Date: 2015-02-15 03:41 am (UTC)
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"I do write fabulous copy," he said, reaching out a hand, Brian's palm hovering just inches from the tense line of Max's spine. Letting out a breath, he touched his fingertips to the fabric of Max's coat, the touch light enough that Max could ignore it, if he wanted to.

In his playpen, Gus babbled to himself, a string of syllables that the kid was working his hardest to turn into words.
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Max Carrigan

June 2020

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