[The view isn't from directly overhead, but it's almost there and it's steady, displaying a mahogany table top and a pair of white-gloved hands busily manipulating crochet needles. Mingled with and leading away from the needles is a line of gold wire, gleaming in the light--it's being pulled into looped stitches like regular yarn would be. Off to
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That would have to be m-
[ Oh right. Hattie took it. She smiles weakly, lowering her hand, her tone muted. ]
It was a necklace my mother gave me before she passed away.
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Do you still have it, my lady? [he asks, curious, polite despite prying.]
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[And reminds Claude of his own situation.]
Is there any way to reacquire it?
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No, not at the moment at least. [ She smiles. ] It's all right, I still have my memories.
[ Even if it does kill her to see Hattie wearing it. ]
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Would it be better to forget, do you think?
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It would be an insult to her memory. And... sometimes her memory helps me carry on, here.
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[Has he heard that name before now? Probably in passing; not personally. Hm.]
You were saying--a memory is enough to support you.
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I only have my memories, and those are very important to me.
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