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Him: Men don’t talk like that.
Me: <<swivels in chair to look at the guy who suddenly appeared behind me>> These are your words. You whispered them to me in a dream last night.
Him: Change it.
Me: <<Turns back to keyboard>> No. You’re going to be super romantic.
Him: I’ve changed my mind. I’m a hardened criminal on the run who has to visit a veterinarian to get sewn up from the gunshot wound. They aren’t obligated to report in suspicious injuries.
Me: What gunshot wound? No. Don’t tell me.
Him: It was from an angry female prison guard who’s in love with me. But she caught me with my attorney. In the supply closet. That woman’s mouth could…
Me: Wait. Wait.
Him: … suck the ocean dry. She’s talented in the court room, too.
Me. <<rolling eyes>> They’d never let you on the other side of the glass to get near your lawyer unless–
Him: Yep. The prison guards are all in love with me, too. It’s an all-female-run prison.
Me: There’s no such thing.
Him: On my planet there is.
Me: Whoooooa. No science fiction.
Him: Oh, didn’t I tell you? I’m on the run from Lord Aileron because I slept with his wife and killed a few men to get off the planet — that’s the criminal part–but I also…
Me: <<Doesn’t hear the rest because the laptop is clicked shut, unplugged, and on her way to sit outside to listen to the birds who might be loud but don’t vex her with complicated story ideas>>