"Somebody opened Chimney's message-box who wasn't the Marquis," Door says slowly, still hanging onto the scrap of paper. There might be other Openers out there somewhere, but it's one more moment of possibility.
She glances at Bridge's hands. So are those, but unlike the other things, the moment he takes off those gloves, possible becomes either true... or not. Definitely not.
There's the urge not to hand over the note, to hold onto maybe, but it's a stupid urge. Definitely not is where she's been all along; it's a sad place, but not frightening. And the other... if the other is true then she's been here for a year, while her sister's been gods know where.
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She glances at Bridge's hands. So are those, but unlike the other things, the moment he takes off those gloves, possible becomes either true... or not. Definitely not.
There's the urge not to hand over the note, to hold onto maybe, but it's a stupid urge. Definitely not is where she's been all along; it's a sad place, but not frightening. And the other... if the other is true then she's been here for a year, while her sister's been gods know where.
Door gives him the paper.