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Summary
“Have you ever brought any of – any of them to life?” she asks when he comes back to himself. The portrait of her playing her cello has been pinned to a wall unframed, and she feels him turn to look at it and smile against her hairline.
“Why would I?” He sounds amused. He sounds bitter. “Why bring my paintings of you to life only to have them turn to dust in my arms? You do that already in the flesh.”
OR:
Xavier pines. Wednesday doesn't really know what to do with herself. Thing ships it.
