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Summary
"That was fast," Bev said, but Eddie was still looking at his empty glass, halfway across the table from him. He prodded it slightly, with the edge of his thumb. There, just at the rim of the glass, only faintly visible in the dim yellowish lighting of the bar: the smudged reddish imprint of Richie's mouth.
"I'm just gonna," Eddie said, and got out of the booth without elaborating.
