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Summary
Lucy doesn’t curse. Rose hadn’t either. Still, Moldaver gets the point as the girl almost startles out of her fucking lap— only the grip she has on Lucy’s ass keeps her there, but Moldaver shifts that grip to Lucy’s hips instead just to be decent as her own eyes go slightly wider. They’re still no match for Lucy’s, as it were, but—
“Hey, easy.”
OR:
Moldaver misses Rose. Lucy misses her mom.
