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Summary
They spend thirty minutes in the taxi from the airport to their hotel in the Bay, during which the downpour intensifies, but Nicky's head is leaning against the window and he's quietly smiling seemingly at nothing but himself. Their fingers are touching on the seat between them, pinkies overlapping like sneaking schoolchildren. Bright sunshine is already starting to peek through the parting clouds, catching on the lighter specks of blue and green in Nicky's eyes.