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Summary
“You’re good with your hands.” Samira spits out, eyes immediately flying open as she processes what she said. It’s Jack’s first stumble of the night, the glass in his hand almost slipping onto the ground until he catches it in the other. They stare at each other, ignoring the Happy Birthday remix to the tune of Jingle Bells that plays in the background.
“Yeah?” He rasps, face flat. Samira gulps, squares her shoulders, then nods. “Yeah.”