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arthur warren. writer of fiction. spent childhood in a hospital, lived in the streets for a few years until his first book "the black dog" became a success. sometimes he gets too lost in his own mind and stories.
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โYou don't.โ
He spoke dryly, finishing his coffee, pushing the cup a little to the side, so he wouldn't accidentally push on it.
โOh, you mean like that . . . You can still do your music. I lived at the streets until I got some money. I think . . . You're good at it.โ
โI try. Uhm . . . Thanks.โ
Arthur smiled shyly at him and sipped his coffee, looking down for a moment. He suddenly felt his cheeks getting hot and dismissed it, deciding to focus on his coffee.
โYou still are.โ
Arthur spoke abruptly, raising his head to look at the man. โ
There was a lot of changes on Arthur's eyes as he heard him speaking about the coffee machine; he seemed to know what he was talking about - and Arthur enjoyed every single moment of it.
Noticing that brought a smile to Dean's lips. It gave the other man a different
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Arthur smiled hesitantly at him and nodded once. This was going surprisingly smooth . . . Not many people knew how to deal with him, in a way that he never meant to be rude, but people thought so.
In response to the man's words, Arthur sipped his coffee, thinking before โ
That honesty caught Dean offguard; with a surprised smile, he chuckled, blurting out a "thanks" while observing Arthur go, without even looking at him.
Puzzled, Dean followed him towards the balcony, cup still on hand.
"Sounds all right, indeed."
He mused, sitting
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โSo you know how creativity works. You'll know how to deal with the questions. I didn't pick you just for your looks, even though you kinda remind me of the main character from my first novel.โ
Arthur sipped his coffee, thinking before speaking again. โ
Turning to place the milk in the fridge again, he fetched his cup, taking a small sip from it. Maybe he should offer sugar, but he never ate it with coffee, so it went over his head.
โYes, that's why I picked you. You look pretty and dress nicely.โ โ
Following that stream of information with a head nod, Dean kept his silence, wanting to learn anything he could about Arthur.
He was. . . A mystery. And, if he wanted to be his face, he needed to know everything about him.
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He nodded in a small smile, sipping his coffee.
โSounds all right ?โ
He shrugged, looking back at the man in an intense stare. He'd alternate between avoidance and stares. They didn't meant much more beyond him being awkward and wanting to better look at the man. โ