Tim's seen the playground before. More than once even. Hell, he's even sat on a swing once or twice and wandered up the slide. Stretched out on the floor of the little merry-go-round thing. It's one of the few places on the island that actually reminds him a little of home, of every little playground in every park he'd ever been to back home
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"Don't you hear the birds?" asked Giselle, stopping in her song to give them the attention they deserved. "They have such lovely voices, and they're very nice to let me be a part of it. Do you sing?"
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He recovers from his slight disorientation fairly quickly though, quirking a grin as he steps into the playground, heading for a nearby swing. "Not the kinda singin' you're thinkin' probably," he says, eying the birds that have congregated around her. "You sound good, though."
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She swung back and forth a little bit and was glad there were swings. They reminded her of home, a little bit, though not as much as the birds.
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"Yeah," he asks, taking a seat on the swing nearest her, swaying idly as he watches her. Pretty and not unlike just about every cheerleader and rally girl at Dillon. With a few exceptions of course. This could be interesting. "Like what?"
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