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He had Chris Pratt's humor and eyes. It was uncanny, really. There was a happiness within his soul that shined. He was bubbly and talkative. I could tell he was the instigator, the prankster, the family clown. When the lights went down, he became feral with a calm and intentional energy that he used to my advantage. They write Harlequin novels about people like him. Ravished, I believe, is the word.
Nice work, Bailey. We'll be in touch again.
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