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. Xris's office was directly off the living room, faced into it. Inside he kept his computers, his books, and his own personal arsenal and collection of antique weapons: an old gas mask, a commando knife, a flashlight, a grenade belt and pouch, his own lucky grenade. That grenade, by not detonating, had once saved Xris's life.
"The house is beautiful, Xris," Rowan said, gazing around in satisfaction, appreciation. "It's what you always dreamed of building."
She might have said what you and Marjorie always dreamed of building, but she didn't, for which Xris gave her points.
Xris motioned for Rowan to sit down. Quong fussed over his patient. The Little One perched on the very edge of the couch, his feet not touching the floor. Rowan pulled her shoes off. She yawned and, before Xris could stop himself, he was yawning, too.
"We should all get some rest," Quong said severely.
"Yeah, in a little while," Xris returned. He sat down opposite the Little One.
Quong was frowning. "I might remind you, my friend, that--after all--this is Raoul .... "
Xris gazed at Quong steadily. "He's a member of the team, Doc. I don't abandon a member of the team. Any member." Quong lifted an eyebrow, said nothing more. Xris began to think of, to concentrate on Raoul. Immediately the Little One became animated. He clapped his small hands; the single eye visible beneath the fedora glistened
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