A shiver runs up her spine. He's become quite good at knowing where to touch since the night of the fete. It doesn't take long before she's bucking, mewling, struggling for air, her pace far more harsh than before. The Others take his eyes for being so good at this.
"What-" she gasped again, "what makes you...think you've won?"
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"What-" she gasped again, "what makes you...think you've won?"