He's wondered what it would be like to live with someone. After Faith's brief stay, he's starting to get an idea.
Messy, and he doesn't mean the ruined, blood-splattered tiles in the bathroom. The raw rage and despair behind every blow makes it less destruction than a reshaping of her world to one where she's not facing a demon in the body of a friend.
No; he's talking about torn clothing, holding her scent, on the floor, a mug of coffee half-full, skinned over and bitter, and the deplorable way she's squeezed the toothpaste from the middle.
He misses her.
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