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He knew Mister Hall was different, but he didn’t know how much.

When he climbed in, he expected it’d be, ‘I’ve had better, but this was nice.’

Except, he hadn’t. More experienced and talented, yes, but no one had held him in such a way after.

“May I ask your name?”

He’d almost left but told it, and it turned out, Scudder was known by, at least, one. No, Mister Hall wanted to know Alec.

Then, in the morning, it was, “Maurice. I’m Maurice.”

Well, Maurice, please, don’t hurt my heart, he pleaded. And if you’d trust me with yours...