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Her thoughts are like weeds in deep water, but the alcohol helps carry them downstream and take them where she needn't worry any longer, where it makes sense for the birds to speak to her and the spirits to haunt her and for everything about Ritsu and herself to be as it is. If she were a Buddhist nun, she could shave her head and perhaps it would all be gone together with her hair, and even that thought makes her giggle now and pass her cup to be refilled.
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His thoughts move in a straight line. It's Ritsu who he'll eat, later; that is quite definite. The birds would be a morsel. An appetiser. Tsukasa would lie heavy on his belly. She is too mortal for his tastes. For now.
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