[He's slowing down. Myfanwy casts her senses ahead: no, there's no one in the lobby, she's not going to even worry about this, she thinks in a sudden burst of defiance, and pelts past him to shoulder the doors open. It's empty after all, with late-afternoon sunlight slanting invitingly through the glass doors on the other side of all the comfortable-chic couches and magazine racks.
She heads right for them, too winded even to say anything. Brown-eyed Yuuri had better be on her heels. He's fast, she tells herself, he'll be fine, he's got that line power, and slams the outside doors open, too, almost collapsing in relief at the smell of fresh air.]
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She heads right for them, too winded even to say anything. Brown-eyed Yuuri had better be on her heels. He's fast, she tells herself, he'll be fine, he's got that line power, and slams the outside doors open, too, almost collapsing in relief at the smell of fresh air.]