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Nightly patrols had become something of a routine—and somehow, Regina was always stuck with the insufferable thief. They stalked through the woods together, painfully making small talk as he held his flimsy bow out in front of them, as if that would protect them against the Wicked Witch’s magic. But even she couldn’t deny the fluttering in her chest or the tingle that ran down her spine when his hand grazed against the small of her back as they rounded a bend. “I’m too sober for this,” she muttered to herself pulling away, fighting her forming smile.