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."
Perian jammed her hands on her hips in irritation. "Flint
Fireforge, if you're not even going to try to be optimistic,
then - then," she sputtered in exasperation, "then - oh, I
don't know why I bother with you! You're the crabbiest hill
dwarf I've ever met!"
"And how many hill dwarves have you met?" he teased,
his eyes twinkling. He enjoyed getting her dander up.
"One more than I like!" she shot back, and though her
eyes flashed dark hazel below her curly copper hair, the cor-
ners of her red lips were raised in an almost imperceptibly
playful smile.
Grinning back, Flint thought, how different she is from
the frawls I've met in more than a century of life. He nearly
reached up to brush a wayward curl from her forehead,
then caught himself. Why do my hands seek excuses to
touch her? We both know hill dwarves and mountain
dwarves don't mix.
"What, no quick retort?" Perian asked him, suddenly
conscious of his stare.
The hill dwarf's bushy mustache turned down in a frown.
"We've too much work to do to indulge in verbal jousts," he
said irritably, pitching the brown button into the heap
again
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