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Six O'Clock. [Nov. 15th, 2005|08:51 pm]
Boomerang Love

jt_blondtwink
[mood |hopefulhopeful]

Justin didn’t waste any time in paying the bill and booking out of the restaurant. He hailed a cab and relaxed against the seat, still grinning like a maniac.

Okay, so, he also pulled the card out and, after memorizing it, stroked his finger over Brian’s handwriting for a minute.

Sue him.

Justin dropped Brian’s key off to be duplicated while he picked up dinner supplies, picked up the keys, and headed for the loft.

Justin felt a little like an intruder when he entered the building, but had to laugh when he got the door open. It wasn’t the Pittsburgh loft, but it was pretty damned close. Justin was still laughing when he put the groceries away, and took a quick spin around.

It already felt like home.

Which could have something to do with the fact that it did look a hell of a lot like the first loft, but still.

Justin got dinner started-- Jambalaya, the first meal he’d ever made for Brian. Well. Brian and Hotlanta.

But it had been better the second day.

Justin left the meal to simmer on low and glanced at the clock. Four. Still enough time.

He walked the three blocks to his soon-to-be-ex apartment, and packed up a duffle with enough clothes to last out a week, the pictures from his bedstand, the picture of Brian that he kept under the bed, sketchbooks and charcoal, a book he’d been reading.

Nothing much, just enough more than clothes to show that he wasn’t bringing over supplies for a week-long fuck-fest.

Justin put the picture of Brian -- his favorite, the one with Brian holding baby Gus, barechested, kissing his son’s forehead -- on Brian’s desk, and settled his other things around the loft, although he left the duffle until Brian cleared out a drawer for him. He left both keys on the kitchen counter and set the table and curled up on the couch to wait for Brian.
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A few days after seeing Brian for the first time in seven years. [Nov. 5th, 2005|08:16 pm]
Boomerang Love

jt_blondtwink
Justin had stolen one of Brian's business cards -- better than that rediculous underware, he thought with a laugh -- and just happened to be in the neighborhood of the office around lunch time.

Okay.

Had deliberately been in the neighborhood with a plan, but that was just quibbling.

Justin gave Cynthia his best sunshiney grin and wave when he entered the office, ignoring her half-stunned, half-smirky-I-told-you-so expression, and flirted with Brian's receptionist shamelessly, until Cynthia finally looked at the kid, told him that this was Justin, as though everybody should have known who he was, and showed him to Brian's office.

The evil smirk was really starting to worry him.

Except that was Brian's office door, and he had a hell of a lot more important things to worry about.

Justin knocked on the frosted glass, glancing around Kinnetic. It wasn't the former baths, by a long shot, sleeker, but still very Kinnetic. Very Brian.
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(no subject) [Oct. 23rd, 2005|06:14 pm]
Boomerang Love

jt_blondtwink
Justin cut into his steak, only half-listening to David chatting on about the play they'd gone to see the night before. At least David was his age, the last three people he'd been with were getting younger and younger, though still legal, and when he realized he was 29 and about to go to bed with an 18 year old, he'd thrown the kid out, and gotten spectacularly wasted.

There were some parts of his past he certainly didn't need to revisit, not like that.

And it had been, what? Four years, five since he'd spoken to Brian? As dead and buried as a past could be, really.

"And I asked for my mahi mahi blood rare you dickless little twat--"

David glanced over his shoulder, looking amused, and Justin had to smile. Some New York rich bitch who's fish was just a hair past seared.

Wait a second.

Justin did a double-take so hard his neck hurt.

"Cynthia?!"

David blinked, then looked amused. "You know her? Let me guess, owns that tacky gallery on 71st, the one that wouldn't take--"

David was talking to the back of Justin's head.

The rest of Justin was currently striding fast towards the table half-way across the room, even though his brain had long since vacated the premises in a haze of ‘what the fuck.'

***

Brian rolled his eyes at Cynthia and looked to the waiter. He was hot, and Brian had been good all week. Maybe he could excuse himself later and ask for a tour of the kitchen.

"She forgot to take her Midol," he said blandly. Back to Cynthia, "Just eat the fucking fish."

But Cynthia was looking at something behind Brian, and he had to get even more annoyed with her.

"What?"

He'd be damned if he would actually turn around to see whatever it was. Probably some celebrity or something. As if he'd give a shit.

But Cynthia didn't answer, she just got a very strange look on her face, and Brian took a sip of his wine, determined to ignore her.

***

It took Justin a minute to connect. Cynthia. New York. And, back to him, was a head, dark, perfect hair-cut.

No.

Just.

Not a chance in hell.

"Of all the gin joints," he manages shakily, stepping closer to the table, Cynthia's dining partner still facing away from him. He's not sure he wants to know.

***

Brian manages, just barely, not to stop mid-sip. He finishes taking a drink, then puts the glass down and swallows.

He raises an eyebrow to Cynthia, but she's still transfixed, and Brian knows why.

Jesus.

Or, just as close.

Back from the dead.

Brian doesn't need to turn around. He knows the voice. God, does he know the voice.

"Take a seat, Justin. Long time, no see."

He takes another sip of wine just to give himself something to do while his mind races and visions of scenes played out years ago rush through him.

***

Justin would have had to sit down anyway, his legs are feeling a little shaky. He turns to look at Brian, half-scared. It's been seven years, and Brian always played hard. He doesn't know if he can bear it if the other man's --old.

But no. Brian's older, but still beautiful. Maturing fucking beautifully. His thoughts flit to.. um. What'sisname. Brian's always had the power to obliterate brain cells, but. Christ. David can fend for himself. "Very long time. Five years?" Five since they've spoken, six since they've seen each other. He knows his voice sounds too casual, but hell. He doesn't know how to react at all. He waves for the waiter and a glass of wine, trying not to stare at Brian.

***

Brian smiles wryly. "Something like that."

Cynthia is still staring.

"Cynthia."

She looks at him and he smirks at her.

"Go order me a bourbon."

Brianspeak for 'fuck off,' even though he usually just would say 'fuck off,' but this is Cynthia and she's already been bitchy enough for one night.

She gets the hint, though, and glares at Brian before glancing at Justin with a smile.

"You look great Justin. Doesn't he? Look great, Brian?"

Alright, that was bitchy even for Cynthia.

10/19/2005 10:38 PM

***

Brian smiles wryly. "Something like that."

Cynthia is still staring.

"Cynthia."

She looks at him and he smirks at her.

"Go order me a bourbon."

Brianspeak for 'fuck off,' even though he usually just would say 'fuck off,' but this is Cynthia and she's already been bitchy enough for one night.

She gets the hint, though, and glares at Brian before glancing at Justin with a smile.

"You look great Justin. Doesn't he? Look great, Brian?"

Alright, that was bitchy even for Cynthia.

***

"Fuck off," Brian says, smiling, and she huffs and gets up. After a couple of steps from the table, she comes back, grabs her plate of food and her wine glass, and growls, "Get your own fucking bourbon. SIR."

But she leaves, and Brian just shakes his head, then looks to Justin.

"I should have fired her years ago, but then I'd be afraid to go to sleep."

And god, but Cynthia's right. Justin looks fucking gorgeous.

***

Justin laughs, softly, although he still feels unreal. Maybe David slipped something in his drink... no, David doesn't do drugs.

"Or drink your coffee."

The waiter returns with Justin's wine. "Does sir want his meal brought to the table?"

Ah hell, his food had arrived. "Yeah."

Go for broke. He almost can't stop staring at Brian, though he's pretty sure he's covering it well. The other man really does look beautiful. Perfect suit, as always. A few lines at his eyes, and Justin doesn't think they're laugh lines, but they just put more focus on Brian's eyes anyway. Hair just a fraction long.

***

Brian chuckles, smiling.

"You think she actually gets me coffee? She gave that up years ago. She figured out I couldn't function without her and got even more of an attitude than she did before."

He's surprised when Justin has his food brought over. But he doesn't say anything.

"You're here alone?"

If not, Justin is majorly blowing someone off.

***

Justin snorts. "No, I can't imagine she'd still bring you coffee. But I don't put her above putting arsenic in it, anyway."

Oh yeah.

"Um, oops?" Justin smiles wryly, then shrugs. "He'll understand."

Doubtful. Neither David, nor any of his other exes, knows about Brian Kinney. And David will understand or he won't.

He wasn't that great a fuck anyway.

***

Brian doubts that.

"He would? He must be a rare breed, then."

Brian lights a cigarette and smokes, then takes another drink.

"This is awkward."

No reason not to say it.

***

Justin snorts, though he ignores the jibe about David understanding. Of course he won't. But Justin couldn't care less.

"Yes."

The patented Brian Kinney way of cutting through the bullshit, speaking the truth was something he had missed over the years, since no one else seemed to bother with it around here. Justin takes out a cigarette and lights it as well. "So what are you doing in New York?" Not quite the million dollar question, but close.

***

"Eating dinner. You?"

***

Justin resists rolling his eyes.

Barely.

"Still living here, actually. Doing well for myself. Three of the top galleries in the city have my work in them." He shrugs. "I made it." It's not immodest, just a simple statement of fact. "How's Kinnetic? And Babylon?" Business. Business is safe.

***

"Good. I knew you would."

Justin was nothing if not persistent. He'd bug them into loving him. And he was talented, or so those who knew about such things said. Brian had always thought he'd probably do well.

"Kinnetic is very successful. Babylon is doing well; Ted manages it, now. I just pocket the profits."

***

It's a sign of growing older gracefully, Justin thinks, that Brian let go of Babylon a little, gave up the party boy to an extent. He sighs, rubbing his temple. He's about to say something when someone clears their throat. Loudly.

Someone is David.

"Are we moving?" the other man asks, an edge in his voice.

"*I*'m moving," Justin says, smiling. It's not the sunshine smile, there's too much of an edge in it, one that wasn't really there in the Pitts.

***

Brian knows that temple rub. He wonders what Justin is about to say that warrants it, but then they're interrupted.

He looks up.

Some guy. Looks to be Justin's age. Nice looking. He looks disgruntled. Sounds it, too.

"I think he minds," Brian stage whispers, then takes a drag off his cigarette.

***

Justin can't help it. He snickers immaturely. "Yeah, I think so, too," he stage whispers back.

David looks more pissed.

Which for some reason amuses Justin even more. "David Lambert, Brian Kinney." He doesn't provide an explanation of his relationship to either. That would take too much time for Brian, and too little for David. Although he does have a mental chuckle at the thought of saying 'Brian's my ex-fiance. David followed me home and hasn't left yet.'

"I'm having lunch with Brian."

David looks even more pissed, and Justin wonders if he's going to make a scene. But he just storms out. Justin shrugs. "You were saying, about Ted doing the work and you making the money?" He says that affectionately. Even if Ted does a damned good job crunching numbers, he knows that Brian works his ass off, always has.

***

"That was very rude of you, Justin. Did you lose all those well-bred manners of yours over the past few years?"

***

Justin shrugs. "No. I keep them around for gallery openings. He was a one-night stand who didn't quite get the concept of one night."

Which sounds like someone else he knows, ten years ago.

But he's not going there.

I lost a lot of things over the past few years, he thinks, but doesn't say.

***

"Huh. You mean, that sort of thing actually happens?" Brian's tone is one of obvious pretend wonderment. "Aaaaaaaaaamazing."

He takes a bite of his steak.

"Something tells me he might be fixing that as we speak."

***

Justin huffs out an almost laugh, although he flashes back a little. Brian Kinney, naked and beautiful under the blue lights in the loft, post fuck. 'Aaaaamazing.' He shakes his head slightly.

"Probably." Justin shrugs. "Yeah, it's so weird that that happens, I mean, honestly. You'd think he was seventeen or something." His voice is a little brighter, there.

"No carbs today?" Justin nods at the steak.

***

Brian shrugs. "Teenagers. Never know what they want. No, I just didn't feel like anything but steak. It happens."

Speaking of, he finishes his steak and takes another drink, then a drag.

Eating, smoking, drinking. It keeps him occupied, anyway.

"So. You live in the art district, or somewhere more posh? Which won, creativity, or money?"

***

Justin smiles a bit at the teenagers comment. "Twenty-somethings, too. Indecisive fuckers."

"Not in the art district, no. I get enough of that crowd whenever I have to show up for gallery openings. No." His smile softens, just the slightest bit. "I found a really great place, overlooks Central Park. Lots of windows." He snorts. "And I swear sometimes I can see more action right below my building than Babylon on a Saturday night." He cocks his head. "Are you still in the loft?"

***

Brian nods.

"I moved. To a different loft, actually. On the upper west side."

He watches Justin carefully to see his reaction.

***

Justin blinks. "Pittsburgh doesn't have an up....per... west....side."

Well son of a bitch.

Justin doesn't even know what he thinks about that. "Kinnetic's expanding, then?" He's only slightly shaky, and takes another sip of wine to cover it. Jesus. H. Christ.

Mother fucker, as well.

***

That had been gratifying.

Brian takes a last drag and puts his cigarette out, then takes the last drink of wine.

"No, not now. Expanded. About three years ago. Offices in midtown. Doing very well. The Pittsburgh office handles local accounts. Here in New York, we handle the national and international accounts. If things go well, we'll open a London office within the next five years or so."

***

Justin blinks. "You've been here for a while, then?"

He's not even sure what he's feeling, whether it's something a whole fuckload meaner than butterflies bouncing around in his stomach or maybe it feels like he's been punched.

Justin doesn't care that the wine costs... hell, he doesn't even know a glass. He knocks back the last third of it in one gulp.

So it's a lot to take in. Sue him.

***

Brian pretends not to notice that Justin is flustered.

"I moved here when we set up the office, yeah. You don't think I'd trust such a thing to anyone else, do you? Cynthia and I relocated with a small group from the creative department. We hired the rest of the staff here. It seems to have worked out."

***

Justin takes another bite of steak, chewing it to give himself time to digest that. "No, I can't imagine anyone else being able to make the company survive here."

Something a little different than who Brian may or may not trust to run his baby.

"I'm glad it's working out," Justin says more softly. Very sincerely.

***

Brian can't ignore the genuineness of that. He smiles softly at Justin. He wants to smooth his hair, but he doesn't, of course.

"Thanks, Justin. Where do you live? I bet we're within a mile of each other. That's...Pretty funny, really."

***

Justin names an address a few blocks away. "Smallest fucking big city in the world, right?" Justin smiles, a little, too. Brian's soft smile makes him melt a little, in a way he hasn't in years. Seven years, to be precise.

***

"Right. I could almost throw a rock and hit you from my place. Almost."

***

Justin shakes his head, smiling. "That's fucking insane. And you've been here three years?" He's still smiling, a little. "I'm amazed we didn't bump into each other sooner.

***

"

***

"Possibly we keep different hours." Brian's life was so different, now. He works. All the time. It had been a way to distract after their breakup, and had never eased off.

***

Justin nods. "Probably. I spend most of the day working in the studio, most of the night schmoozing my way through gallery openings. 'Meeting and greeting.'" Justin sneers a little on that, voice going slightly mocking, mostly of himself.

***

"Sounds fun." Not. "I have to do a lot of that, myself. Clients. I still handle everything myself, some in more ways than others, but it makes for a full schedule. Cynthia's probably pissed, we were supposed to go over some specs. A working lunch, for christ's sake." He looks over to see Cynthia is gone. Brian sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "She probably caught a cab back to the office."

***

Justin smiles a little. "I'd say I feel bad for taking you away from work, but..." He smiles. Not quite the sunshine grin, but close. "I'm not." His mouth twists wryly. "It's really good to see you, Brian." And he does mean that.

***

Brian returns the smile. It's awkward, but in a weird way, it's almost as if they hadn't spent so long apart. "You know...I really thought you'd be 'attached'. In a Ben And Michael way, by now."

***

Justin snorts. "Nope, not me." He holds up two fingers. "Still flying solo, cross my heart."

He smiles a little, not wanting to really talk about past relationships. He wonders if Brian ever... found someone else. Well, for more than fifteen minutes in the backroom, someone else. "How are Ben and Michael?" He half-laughs. "Hell. Anyone from the Pitts." He smiles gently. "How's Gus?"

***

"They're disgusting. They're fine. I hear from Michael occasionally. Gus is good, the munchers seem to have been good parents, believe it or not. I see him a few times a year, and he spends a month in the summer with me." That would probably be a surprise, but hey. Things change.

***

Justin smiles. He's glad of that. He thinks that the separation from Gus hurt Brian more than he ever let on. "Up here, in the city?" Justin only hesitates for a heartbeat. "Well, if you guys get a chance, you could always drop by. I'd love to see him." He hopes it sounds as non threatening and nonpushy as possible. Which isn't a very Justin thing to do, really. Or wasn't from... so long ago. But people change.

***

"I'll keep that in mind." Brian just looks at Justin for a few long moments. He's not sure what he wants from this. Part of him wants to forget it ever happened. Another part wants to grab Justin, drag him to the men's room, and fuck his brains out. He clears his throat.

***

Justin sighs. This is... throwing him for a loop. To say the least. And a not insignificant part of him wants to dip under the long white tablecloth and suck Brian until he screams down the house and gets them both kicked out of this restaurant.

Another part wants to ask Brian back to his place.

He keeps expecting another part to pop up telling him to hop a transcontinental plane, but it doesn't surface. He does know that he's going to go nuts expecting to bump into Brian around every street corner now. He's not sure what that's going to be like.

***

Fuck it. It's been seven fucking years. Yeah, their breakup had been bad, but...SEVEN FUCKING YEARS!!! It wouldn't hurt to just fuck each other, would it? Brian hadn't ever seen anyone, and Justin wasn't with anyone, so why not? And if Justin didn't still want that from him, he could just say no. Brian knows he looks good. He looks practically the same as he did before, that swiss aging shit had been worth the money. "Come home with me," he says. It's not a question. It's a statement.

***

Justin's eyes light up. Half relief, half hope. "Thank god, I thought I was going to have to say it first," he breathes out in a rush.

***

Brian can't help but chuckle. Justin had never been the shy type, not at all. But if Brian still had the power to fluster him, this was a Good Thing. He stands and leans down to whisper in Justin's ear. "If we leave now, we can be fucking within fifteen minutes, tops."

***

Brian always did have the power to make him shiver. His only answer is to slam down money on the table, cash. He doesn't know or care how much he's just overpaid. Fuck it.

Justin stands up, grabs Brian's tie, and pulls him in for a kiss. Not desperateneedy, but slow. Firm.

He has to stop before he begs Brian to fuck him right there on the table.

"Ten," he says, voice a little breathy.

***

Brian smirks. Yeah, Justin's still Justin. "Only if traffic is light," he says, and walks for the door. He hands the valet his ticket and his vette is brought around. Yeah. He still has the vette.

***

Justin laughs when he sees the vette. He's... not really surprised. That car was Brian's baby. And, really, the only thing, aside from the Jeep, he can even imagine Brian driving. "If traffic's bad, we'll go to my place. It's closer."

***

"Your insignificant other is probably there." He puts his sunglasses on and starts in to traffic, heading in the general direction of both their places.

***

Justin snorts. "Doubtful, very doubtful." He does have to snicker at the term. Very Brian, and very true. Both of David, and of most -- well, all -- of his 'other's since Brian.

***

"Fine, your place, then." He makes the turns, he knows where the address Justin had rattled off is. And he'd filed it away without even meaning to. within 7 minutes, they're pulled to the curb and Brian's handing the keys to yet another valet. he gives him the 'one scratch and you're a dead man' look, then follows Justin into the building.

***

Justin lasts as far as the elevator before he leans in, both hands curled around Brian's upper arms.

It's funny, he'd somehow thought he would have gotten taller over the years, so he wouldn't have to stretch his neck to kiss Brian.

He'd missed it, too.

He kisses Brian a little more insistently now, given the relative privacy of the elevator.

Relative privacy of a glass-front elevator, at least.

***

Brian doesn't care about the glass front. He kisses Justin back, hands raised to Justin's cheeks, pulling him closer. he moans into it, cause fuck...the scent, the taste of Justin had been imprinted for so long, it's like remembering something you'd thought you'd forgotten, but hadn't, not really. he presses Justin against the wall, kissing feverishly.

***

Justin almost whines into the kiss. Fuck... just... fuck. It feels so fucking good, so familiar.

He feels like an addict gone clean for ten years, falling back in easy and sweet, never forgotten just how good it is, no matter how hard he'd tried to push it from his mind.

One hand slides up to bury his fingers in Brian's hair, and he groans all over again at how that feels.

He can't remember one time in the past seven years he's been this hard, just from a kiss, and when the elevator dings for their floor, he can't stop the kiss long enough to leave until the door starts to slide shut again. He kicks out with his foot to make it stay open, and manages to drag Brian three torturous steps into the hall before leaning against a door, not his, and he doesn't care, pulling Brian flush against him, hands roaming everywhere, not learning the feel of Brian again, because some things you just don't forget, but because it's been seven fucking years since they've done this, and he wants everything. Right. Now. Right here, because he can't wait a second longer.


***

Brian kisses back with abandon, knowing they shouldn't be doing this here, but not caring. At all.



He bites Justin's lower lip and groans, moving a hand down to stroke Justin through his pants. Justin's hard. So fucking hard. Feeling that, that cock, even through pants, is so surreal and just plain good, that Brian moans against Justin's mouth before he speaks.



"Get the door open, Sunshine."



Yeah. He's impatient. He wants Justin NOW.

***

Justin groans. God, even for a half-assed through the pants grope, no one ever touched him the way Brian did. And Brian sounds so goddamn horny.

Which would be funnier if he weren't about to drop his pants and beg Brian to take him right here in the hallway.

"This isn't my door," he manages, kissing Brian again, walking backwards, dragging Brian with him. No one's ever made him hot enough for him to need to know how to walk backwards to his apartment out of sheer habit, but he manages to stumble against the door, his own this time. He hates it that he has to break the kiss and turn away from Brian, if only just long enough to get his key in the door and fall inside.

***

Brian takes the opportunity to grope Justin's ass. He kisses the back of his neck, then bites his earlobe as he gets the door open. When they literally fall into the apartment, Brian stumbles and knocks Justin down. He follows, rolling the other man to his back so he can straddle him and hold him down, kissing him frantically as he uses a foot to kick the door closed. Brian really has no patience, here. He pulls Justin's shirt up and leans down to bite and suck his nipple, hands still pinning his hands to the floor.

***

Justin moans when Brian starts with the neck things, fucking HELL, and has to laugh when they literally fall into the door, just once, breathlessly.

Justin returns the kiss desperately, shifting his hands in Brian's. Not to try and get away, just to reassure himself, that he's really being pinned down by Brian fucking Kinney.

Because if it weren't for the hardwood floor that isn't terribly comfy for his slightly thrashing head to bang against, he'd think that this was a bad trip, or a really good one.

Okay, pinning good, but if Brian's not going to start getting them naked, enough is efuckingnough. Justin squirms his hands a little more insistently. "Fuck... naked. Now Brian, need you now,” he groans out loudly.

***

Brian ignores Justin for a few moments, then lets his hands go and sits up, looking down on him. Brian still has his suit jacket on, so he shrugs it off and throws it to the ground, then loosens his tie and starts unbuttoning his shirt. after his shirt is totally unbuttoned, Brian stands up and starts to get his shoes and socks off, followed by his slacks. He stares at Justin, urging him with his look to get up and get with it.

***

Justin doesn't need to be told, or looked at, twice, and scrambles to his feet, clothes flying. He's stripped to slacks and nothing else when he can't hold off any longer, drags Brian in for a long, hungry, kiss, one hand in the Brian's hair, the other trying to get his pants off. It doesn't work very well, and he trips, falling to the floor again -- he really needs to get a rug --, pulling Brian with him, on top of him.

***

Brian reaches down as he attacks Justin with his mouth again, shoving Justin's pants down. He figured Justin can get them the rest of the way. He rocks forward, cocks rubbing together, and groans loudly. "Fuck," he mutters against Justin's mouth. "Want to fuck you..." Obviously. Brian reaches up and slides his fingers between their mouths to get them slick, then moves his hand to Justin's ass, finds his opening, and shoves two fingers in. It's not slow or careful. It's hard and brutal and he wants to get Justin ready enough to fuck him cause he has to fuck him nownowNOW!

***

Justin chokes out a groan. It's rough and perfect, and he does manage to kick his slacks the rest of the way off before Brian pushes his fingers in. Fucking hell. And it's been longer than he cares to admit since he's bottomed, but god. "Want you to fuck me, too.. "

He gasps out. "Condoms... in the cookie jar... " Brian's going to laugh at him for that, but the kitchen counter runs right next to the entryway, although Justin's kicking himself for putting them not on the floor. Not close enough.

***

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