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Summary
"I'd prefer not to talk about this with you, thank you," Whitaker said.
"Oh, pfft, c'mon," Trinity said, because while she'd seen a lot more than she wanted to, she couldn't pretend that she hadn't seen her roommate standing in the bathroom looking at his junk bathed in the radiant glow of his cell phone. "You need to talk to me, man, you need pointers."
(Or, and they were platonic roommates.)