My Body is not for your taking, La Magra.The person standing in front of him was Leela, but the voice wasn't hers. It was a strange, lilting language that he understood but on some level knew was not English. Her body was surrounded by a sillouette of white light. He on the other hand seemed stuck in the darkness that bore a reddishe hue
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Frost sighed in frustration. These dreams had really been getting to him. The stress they produced just kept slowly building over time, and he didn't know what to do with it. Fuck, he hadn't even been travelling to manage his own affairs in the past week. Of course, he hadn't blamed it on this, but then he hadn't wanted to blame it on any weakness.
He ran a hand back through his hair. "I just need to see you again. When you get the chance."
What had happened to her just always eerily popping in on him? Did he feel nostalgic for that? Was this lust translating into some kind of romanticism?
Christ.
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NO.
The flash to the dream caught him off guard and actually made him recoil a little with a curse, holding his head. Okay, kicking his ass in a dream didn't count. Fucking hell. He shook his head and realized that he had dropped the phone. Immediately, it was back in his hand and to his ear, but he doubted Leela had missed that.
"Sorry. Just woke up." It was the fucking truth. "That sounds like a fucking date. Just wish I got to keep the delivery boy."
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