"Byerly knows everyone." A brief lift of his eyebrows. "Everyone. If it's a noble, he's probably wined and dined with it. And he definitely knows from experience how to ruin one."
He reaches down and plucks a leaf from a basil plant to pop into his mouth and chew. "Anyway. I'm glad we know this about each other now. Feels less like dealing with it alone."
"I won't. Not my...story, I suppose, to tell." Not his favorite word for it. 'Story' implies a narrative and entertainment value. But he doesn't want to call it a secret, because that implies shame. "Don't tell anyone about me, either."
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She does not.
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He reaches down and plucks a leaf from a basil plant to pop into his mouth and chew. "Anyway. I'm glad we know this about each other now. Feels less like dealing with it alone."
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She doesn't think he would, but as an afterthought, she says: "Don't uh...don't tell anyone." About Devigny. About her. About all of this.
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