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She'd follow her anywhere.

(Even worse, she's going to.)

After all, it's Effy, Effy, Effy. Always Effy. (Always just Effy.)

Even if the world doesn't spin around her (but doesn't it, really?) the important world, Pandora's world, that one does.

If it (life or love or whatever) were a race, it would be one she'd never win. Not that she would want to, even if she could. Because there's this look on Effy's face, not the one she gets when she's high on whatever or the look (Panda imagines) she saves for when she fucks Cook or fucks Freddie or whoever strikes her fancy that second.

There's this different sort of smile, but only sometimes.

I could be happy like this, Panda imagines that particular smile would say, if translated into proper words.

Panda catalogues all of Effy's smiles; they're too precious to be lost, so she keeps them all.

When there's no one else, Panda'll make sure to always remember how Effy smiled.