She sips her coffee, leaves a red mark on the rim-louder than her voice. She notices me watching. Of course she does. "You're quiet," she says, leaning back. "Worried I'll outplay you?" I don't answer right away. I glance at the lipstick, then her. I'm calculating I say. Her smirk deepens. So does mine. I'm deciding if that mouth is more dangerous when it talks... or when it doesn't.
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