[ It's the question, the way he voices it, that strikes home hard. She can't say that he's entirely like her; maybe he likes being alone. But there's something in his tone that speaks otherwise, and Mary can hardly forget the years she'd spent trapped in her own home, frightened and fragile. ]
You... said it before, that I'm different. But you weren't scared. And you're weird, but you're nice.
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You... said it before, that I'm different. But you weren't scared. And you're weird, but you're nice.
... So yes. I want to.
[ ... Said Mary to her feet. ]