Where history is hip.

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Grit jaw. Steel eyes. A glare that could cut glass. You approach the world with weary confidence forged from a life of learned indifference.

But you crack for me.

It starts small. Wry amusement. A sly chuckle. Pupils dilating. Until the crack shatters and your lips puddle on mine like velvet.

And finally, I see you.

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