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[as he explains, Cecelia's chin slips from his shoulder and her head turns to rest against it.]

That...that can't be right.

[but she woke up in a pretty pristine-looking room, even if her notebooks were still covered in dust.

...wait, how much was real? she hesitates, then loosens her hold on him so she can withdraw and look him over - his face, his clothes, his side...

no blood...]

Your injuries...?

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