Because you're a sadist, Karla. Stop. You can have one more after this, and THAT'S IT. XD
In the church, deserted on a Wednesday, John Jasper practises his piano for hours, playing the same piece over and over again, a piece written for a flute, which he plays as though it were written for piano. He is readying himself; within the hour the old reverend will come, and Jaspar will play him finer than any piano he ever touched.
"Bread for breakfast or air, cherie?" Bossuet calls back over his shoulder.
"Only if you promise you'll wash your hands first. Or, better yet, use tongs and a knife and don't touch it. You always get things on bread that make me ill."
"Suppose I kiss it all over first?"
"Bossuet!"
"Don't worry." He smiles to himself as he tears off a piece of bread with his (washed) hands. "If there are things on the bread that make a fellow ill, I'm going to be the one who suffers them."
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In the church, deserted on a Wednesday, John Jasper practises his piano for hours, playing the same piece over and over again, a piece written for a flute, which he plays as though it were written for piano. He is readying himself; within the hour the old reverend will come, and Jaspar will play him finer than any piano he ever touched.
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...ahem. Normal pairing now. Joly/Bossuet, toast.
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"Bread for breakfast or air, cherie?" Bossuet calls back over his shoulder.
"Only if you promise you'll wash your hands first. Or, better yet, use tongs and a knife and don't touch it. You always get things on bread that make me ill."
"Suppose I kiss it all over first?"
"Bossuet!"
"Don't worry." He smiles to himself as he tears off a piece of bread with his (washed) hands. "If there are things on the bread that make a fellow ill, I'm going to be the one who suffers them."
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