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he: that is some traffic.
she: yeah, it really is.
i: we’ll just have to battle our way through.
he: i don’t know if i’m prepared to battle.
i: what? you mean you don’t fancy yourselves…vikings or something?
she: *hiccup*
i: Lord Hiccup, the Vile?
he: heh.
she: i like that. i was afraid i’d have to be Lord Hiccup, Slayer of Dragons. i don’t think i could slay dragons.
i: you are very small.
he: wow, we’re almost to the exit.
i: yeah. and these streets are not nearly as bloody as i would have imagined after so much battle. they should be blacker.
he: perhaps that’s what all those shiny black stripes are.
i: rivulets of blood?
she: yes. to channel to the gods the blood of our enemies. like in Cabin in The Woods.
i: there certainly are a lot of fools and whores whose blood could be spilled for the purpose.
he: no kidding.
she: good thing i’m neither. then i can wait for the mermen. even if they ate my face off, i’d still want to see one.
me: i’ll take the unicorn. because, you know, the thing about being gored to death by the unicorn is that mythology tells us his horn has healing powers…so he can stab you over and over again and you’ll just keep not dying.
he: oh, wow. i need to see this movie.
she: that sounds amazing. except then i think about that myth, where the guy’s liver is eaten every day by an eagle, and i think after a while i’d be like, ‘okay, i’m ready to be dead.’

Yeah, that whole night didn’t go too badly. I still like both of them, even though they have some noticeable awkward tension going on once we’re done talking about monsters and death.
I gave her my poems and she emailed me a story she wrote. Idk if she read any of my stuff yet, but her writing is interesting. It’s what I thought it would be like. Not spectacular, but extremely true to her nature.

It’s kind of a funny feeling, to know that he is a character in this story and that he does not know. And that I do know despite her refusal to name or even describe this character.

It’s exactly what I would have done. And did do.
Except that nobody in my poems is anyone she has met.

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