Sweet flirt ep 12 bibs for babies

Mickeyy Mouse's Universe

sweet flirt ep 12 bibs for babies

"This is from a Fons and Porter tv episode and the magazine." This sweet SNUGGLE BEARS QUILT with matching soft toy is the perfect handmade gift for that "Enjoy the Pixie Sticks baby quilt digital pattern from Scrap Quilts, issue. Project 12 Quilts: Little Owls baby quilt pattern / tutorial Owl Baby Quilts , Baby. ice, ice, baby-- just litterally laughed out loud! Rainbow Fruit Platter: Kids would like this fun snack or would even be cute for .. Free and Funny Flirting Ecard: It's not cellulite, it's my body's way of saying "I'm . Top 12 Behavioral Problems in Dogs .. Baby BibsBabies StuffKid StuffBabies ClothesRandom Stuff CapesCute. “And the babies in the births — every man jack of 'em! .. and was, in fact, taken and tragically shot at twelve o'clock that same day — another Oak could pipe with Arcadian sweetness and the sound of the well-known could be so different from such a one, and yet so like what a flirt is supposed to be.

He was at the brightest period of masculine growth, for his intellect and his emotions were clearly separated: In short, he was twenty-eight, and a bachelor.

The field he was in this morning sloped to a ridge called Norcombe Hill. Through a spur of this hill ran the highway between Emminster and Chalk-Newton. Casually glancing over the hedge, Oak saw coming down the incline before him an ornamental spring waggon, painted yellow and gaily marked, drawn by two horses, a waggoner walking alongside bearing a whip perpendicularly. The waggon was laden with household goods and window plants, and on the apex of the whole sat a woman, young and attractive.

Gabriel had not beheld the sight for more than half a minute, when the vehicle was brought to a standstill just beneath his eyes. The girl on the summit of the load sat motionless, surrounded by tables and chairs with their legs upwards, backed by an oak settle, and ornamented in front by pots of geraniums, myrtles, and cactuses, together with a caged canary — all probably from the windows of the house just vacated.

There was also a cat in a willow basket, from the partly-opened lid of which she gazed with half-closed eyes, and affectionately-surveyed the small birds around. The handsome girl waited for some time idly in her place, and the only sound heard in the stillness was the hopping of the canary up and down the perches of its prison.

Then she looked attentively downwards. It was not at the bird, nor at the cat; it was at an oblong package tied in paper, and lying between them. She turned her head to learn if the waggoner were coming.

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He was not yet in sight; and her eyes crept back to the package, her thoughts seeming to run upon what was inside it. At length she drew the article into her lap, and untied the paper covering; a small swing looking-glass was disclosed, in which she proceeded to survey herself attentively.

She parted her lips and smiled. It was a fine morning, and the sun lighted up to a scarlet glow the crimson jacket she wore, and painted a soft lustre upon her bright face and dark hair. The myrtles, geraniums, and cactuses packed around her were fresh and green, and at such a leafless season they invested the whole concern of horses, waggon, furniture, and girl with a peculiar vernal charm.

What possessed her to indulge in such a performance in the sight of the sparrows, blackbirds, and unperceived farmer who were alone its spectators, — whether the smile began as a factitious one, to test her capacity in that art, — nobody knows; it ended certainly in a real smile. She blushed at herself, and seeing her reflection blush, blushed the more. The change from the customary spot and necessary occasion of such an act — from the dressing hour in a bedroom to a time of travelling out of doors — lent to the idle deed a novelty it did not intrinsically possess.

The picture was a delicate one.

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A cynical inference was irresistible by Gabriel Oak as he regarded the scene, generous though he fain would have been. There was no necessity whatever for her looking in the glass.

She did not adjust her hat, or pat her hair, or press a dimple into shape, or do one thing to signify that any such intention had been her motive in taking up the glass. She simply observed herself as a fair product of Nature in the feminine kind, her thoughts seeming to glide into far-off though likely dramas in which men would play a part — vistas of probable triumphs — the smiles being of a phase suggesting that hearts were imagined as lost and won.

Still, this was but conjecture, and the whole series of actions was so idly put forth as to make it rash to assert that intention had any part in them at all. She put the glass in the paper, and the whole again into its place. When the waggon had passed on, Gabriel withdrew from his point of espial, and descending into the road, followed the vehicle to the turnpike-gate some way beyond the bottom of the hill, where the object of his contemplation now halted for the payment of toll.

About twenty steps still remained between him and the gate, when he heard a dispute. It was a difference concerning twopence between the persons with the waggon and the man at the toll-bar. Oak looked from one to the other of the disputants, and fell into a reverie. There was something in the tone of twopence remarkably insignificant. John and the ugliness of Judas Iscariot, as represented in a window of the church he attended, that not a single lineament could be selected and called worthy either of distinction or notoriety.

The red-jacketed and dark-haired maiden seemed to think so too, for she carelessly glanced over him, and told her man to drive on. She might have looked her thanks to Gabriel on a minute scale, but she did not speak them; more probably she felt none, for in gaining her a passage he had lost her her point, and we know how women take a favour of that kind. The gatekeeper surveyed the retreating vehicle.

A desolating wind wandered from the north over the hill whereon Oak had watched the yellow waggon and its occupant in the sunshine of a few days earlier.

Norcombe Hill — not far from lonely Toller-Down — was one of the spots which suggest to a passer-by that he is in the presence of a shape approaching the indestructible as nearly as any to be found on earth. It was a featureless convexity of chalk and soil — an ordinary specimen of those smoothly-outlined protuberances of the globe which may remain undisturbed on some great day of confusion, when far grander heights and dizzy granite precipices topple down.

The hill was covered on its northern side by an ancient and decaying plantation of beeches, whose upper verge formed a line over the crest, fringing its arched curve against the sky, like a mane. To-night these trees sheltered the southern slope from the keenest blasts, which smote the wood and floundered through it with a sound as of grumbling, or gushed over its crowning boughs in a weakened moan. The dry leaves in the ditch simmered and boiled in the same breezes, a tongue of air occasionally ferreting out a few, and sending them spinning across the grass.

A group or two of the latest in date amongst the dead multitude had remained till this very mid-winter time on the twigs which bore them and in falling rattled against the trunks with smart taps. Between this half-wooded half naked hill, and the vague still horizon that its summit indistinctly commanded, was a mysterious sheet of fathomless shade — the sounds from which suggested that what it concealed bore some reduced resemblance to features here.

The thin grasses, more or less coating the hill, were touched by the wind in breezes of differing powers, and almost of differing natures — one rubbing the blades heavily, another raking them piercingly, another brushing them like a soft broom.

The instinctive act of humankind was to stand and listen, and learn how the trees on the right and the trees on the left wailed or chaunted to each other in the regular antiphonies of a cathedral choir; how hedges and other shapes to leeward then caught the note, lowering it to the tenderest sob; and how the hurrying gust then plunged into the south, to be heard no more.

The sky was clear — remarkably clear — and the twinkling of all the stars seemed to be but throbs of one body, timed by a common pulse. A difference of colour in the stars — oftener read of than seen in England — was really perceptible here.

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The sovereign brilliancy of Sirius pierced the eye with a steely glitter, the star called Capella was yellow, Aldebaran and Betelgueux shone with a fiery red. To persons standing alone on a hill during a clear midnight such as this, the roll of the world eastward is almost a palpable movement. The sensation may be caused by the panoramic glide of the stars past earthly objects, which is perceptible in a few minutes of stillness, or by the better outlook upon space that a hill affords, or by the wind, or by the solitude; but whatever be its origin, the impression of riding along is vivid and abiding.

The poetry of motion is a phrase much in use, and to enjoy the epic form of that gratification it is necessary to stand on a hill at a small hour of the night, and, having first expanded with a sense of difference from the mass of civilised mankind, who are dreamwrapt and disregardful of all such proceedings at this time, long and quietly watch your stately progress through the stars.

After such a nocturnal reconnoitre it is hard to get back to earth, and to believe that the consciousness of such majestic speeding is derived from a tiny human frame. Suddenly an unexpected series of sounds began to be heard in this place up against the sky. They had a clearness which was to be found nowhere in the wind, and a sequence which was to be found nowhere in nature.

The tune was not floating unhindered into the open air: The hut stood on little wheels, which raised its floor about a foot from the ground. During the twelvemonth preceding this time he had been enabled by sustained efforts of industry and chronic good spirits to lease the small sheep-farm of which Norcombe Hill was a portion, and stock it with two hundred sheep.

Previously he had been a bailiff for a short time, and earlier still a shepherd only, having from his childhood assisted his father in tending the flocks of large proprietors, till old Gabriel sank to rest. This venture, unaided and alone, into the paths of farming as master and not as man, with an advance of sheep not yet paid for, was a critical juncture with Gabriel Oak, and he recognised his position clearly.

The first movement in his new progress was the lambing of his ewes, and sheep having been his speciality from his youth, he wisely refrained from deputing the task of tending them at this season to a hireling or a novice. The wind continued to beat about the corners of the hut, but the flute-playing ceased. He carried a lantern in his hand, and closing the door behind him, came forward and busied himself about this nook of the field for nearly twenty minutes, the lantern light appearing and disappearing here and there, and brightening him or darkening him as he stood before or behind it.

Fitness being the basis of beauty, nobody could have denied that his steady swings and turns in and about the flock had elements of grace, Yet, although if occasion demanded he could do or think a thing with as mercurial a dash as can the men of towns who are more to the manner born, his special power, morally, physically, and mentally, was static, owing little or nothing to momentum as a rule.

A close examination of the ground hereabout, even by the wan starlight only, revealed how a portion of what would have been casually called a wild slope had been appropriated by Farmer Oak for his great purpose this winter.

Detached hurdles thatched with straw were stuck into the ground at various scattered points, amid and under which the whitish forms of his meek ewes moved and rustled. The ring of the sheep-bell, which had been silent during his absence, recommenced, in tones that had more mellowness than clearness, owing to an increasing growth of surrounding wool.

Far from the Madding Crowd / Thomas Hardy

This continued till Oak withdrew again from the flock. The little speck of life he placed on a wisp of hay before the small stove, where a can of milk was simmering. Oak extinguished the lantern by blowing into it and then pinching the snuff, the cot being lighted by a candle suspended by a twisted wire. A rather hard couch, formed of a few corn sacks thrown carelessly down, covered half the floor of this little habitation, and here the young man stretched himself along, loosened his woollen cravat, and closed his eyes.

In about the time a person unaccustomed to bodily labour would have decided upon which side to lie, Farmer Oak was asleep. The inside of the hut, as it now presented itself, was cosy and alluring, and the scarlet handful of fire in addition to the candle, reflecting its own genial colour upon whatever it could reach, flung associations of enjoyment even over utensils and tools. In the corner stood the sheep-crook, and along a shelf at one side were ranged bottles and canisters of the simple preparations pertaining to ovine surgery and physic; spirits of wine, turpentine, tar, magnesia, ginger, and castor-oil being the chief.

On a triangular shelf across the corner stood bread, bacon, cheese, and a cup for ale or cider, which was supplied from a flagon beneath. Beside the provisions lay the flute, whose notes had lately been called forth by the lonely watcher to beguile a tedious hour. Passing from the profoundest sleep to the most alert wakefulness with the same ease that had accompanied the reverse operation, he looked at his watch, found that the hour-hand had shifted again, put on his hat, took the lamb in his arms, and carried it into the darkness.

After placing the little creature with its mother, he stood and carefully examined the sky, to ascertain the time of night from the altitudes of the stars. The Dog-star and Aldebaran, pointing to the restless Pleiades, were half-way up the Southern sky, and between them hung Orion, which gorgeous constellation never burnt more vividly than now, as it soared forth above the rim of the landscape.

Castor and Pollux with their quiet shine were almost on the meridian: Being a man not without a frequent consciousness that there was some charm in this life he led, he stood still after looking at the sky as a useful instrument, and regarded it in an appreciative spirit, as a work of art superlatively beautiful. For a moment he seemed impressed with the speaking loneliness of the scene, or rather with the complete abstraction from all its compass of the sights and sounds of man.

Human shapes, interferences, troubles, and joys were all as if they were not, and there seemed to be on the shaded hemisphere of the globe no sentient being save himself; he could fancy them all gone round to the sunny side. Occupied thus, with eyes stretched afar, Oak gradually perceived that what he had previously taken to be a star low down behind the outskirts of the plantation was in reality no such thing.

It was an artificial light, almost close at hand. Farmer Oak went towards the plantation and pushed through its lower boughs to the windy side.

A dim mass under the slope reminded him that a shed occupied a place here, the site being a cutting into the slope of the hill, so that at its back part the roof was almost level with the ground. In front it was formed of board nailed to posts and covered with tar as a preservative. Through crevices in the roof and side spread streaks and dots of light, a combination of which made the radiance that had attracted him.

Oak stepped up behind, where, leaning down upon the roof and putting his eye close to a hole, he could see into the interior clearly. The place contained two women and two cows. By the side of the latter a steaming bran-mash stood in a bucket. One of the women was past middle age. She wore no bonnet or hat, but had enveloped herself in a large cloak, which was carelessly flung over her head as a covering. The idea of such a slight wind catching it. The other was spotted, grey and white.

Beside her Oak now noticed a little calf about a day old, looking idiotically at the two women, which showed that it had not long been accustomed to the phenomenon of eyesight, and often turning to the lantern, which it apparently mistook for the moon, inherited instinct having as yet had little time for correction by experience.

Between the sheep and the cows Lucina had been busy on Norcombe Hill lately. In making even horizontal and clear inspections we colour and mould according to the wants within us whatever our eyes bring in. Had Gabriel been able from the first to get a distinct view of her countenance, his estimate of it as very handsome or slightly so would have been as his soul required a divinity at the moment or was ready supplied with one. Having for some time known the want of a satisfactory form to fill an increasing void within him, his position moreover affording the widest scope for his fancy, he painted her a beauty.

By one of those whimsical coincidences in which Nature, like a busy mother, seems to spare a moment from her unremitting labours to turn and make her children smile, the girl now dropped the cloak, and forth tumbled ropes of black hair over a red jacket.

Oak knew her instantly as the heroine of the yellow waggon, myrtles, and looking-glass: They placed the calf beside its mother again, took up the lantern, and went out, the light sinking down the hill till it was no more than a nebula.

Gabriel Oak returned to his flock. Even its position terrestrially is one of the elements of a new interest, and for no particular reason save that the incident of the night had occurred there Oak went again into the plantation.

Lingering and musing here, he heard the steps of a horse at the foot of the hill, and soon there appeared in view an auburn pony with a girl on its back, ascending by the path leading past the cattle-shed. She was the young woman of the night before.

Gabriel instantly thought of the hat she had mentioned as having lost in the wind; possibly she had come to look for it. He hastily scanned the ditch and after walking about ten yards along it found the hat among the leaves. Gabriel took it in his hand and returned to his hut. She came up and looked around — then on the other side of the hedge.

Gabriel was about to advance and restore the missing article when an unexpected performance induced him to suspend the action for the present. The path, after passing the cowshed, bisected the plantation.

The rapidity of her glide into this position was that of a kingfisher — its noiselessness that of a hawk. The tall lank pony seemed used to such doings, and ambled along unconcerned.

Thus she passed under the level boughs. She had no side-saddle, and it was very apparent that a firm seat upon the smooth leather beneath her was unattainable sideways. Springing to her accustomed perpendicular like a bowed sapling, and satisfying herself that nobody was in sight, she seated herself in the manner demanded by the saddle, though hardly expected of the woman, and trotted off in the direction of Tewnell Mill.

Oak was amused, perhaps a little astonished, and hanging up the hat in his hut, went again among his ewes. An hour passed, the girl returned, properly seated now, with a bag of bran in front of her. On nearing the cattle-shed she was met by a boy bringing a milking-pail, who held the reins of the pony whilst she slid off. The boy led away the horse, leaving the pail with the young woman.

Soon soft spirts alternating with loud spirts came in regular succession from within the shed, the obvious sounds of a person milking a cow. Gabriel took the lost hat in his hand, and waited beside the path she would follow in leaving the hill.

She came, the pail in one hand, hanging against her knee. The left arm was extended as a balance, enough of it being shown bare to make Oak wish that the event had happened in the summer, when the whole would have been revealed. There was a bright air and manner about her now, by which she seemed to imply that the desirability of her existence could not be questioned; and this rather saucy assumption failed in being offensive because a beholder felt it to be, upon the whole, true.

Like exceptional emphasis in the tone of a genius, that which would have made mediocrity ridiculous was an addition to recognised power. The starting-point selected by the judgment was her height. She seemed tall, but the pail was a small one, and the hedge diminutive; hence, making allowance for error by comparison with these, she could have been not above the height to be chosen by women as best.

All features of consequence were severe and regular. It may have been observed by persons who go about the shires with eyes for beauty, that in Englishwoman a classically-formed face is seldom found to be united with a figure of the same pattern, the highly-finished features being generally too large for the remainder of the frame; that a graceful and proportionate figure of eight heads usually goes off into random facial curves.

Without throwing a Nymphean tissue over a milkmaid, let it be said that here criticism checked itself as out of place, and looked at her proportions with a long consciousness of pleasure.

From the contours of her figure in its upper part, she must have had a beautiful neck and shoulders; but since her infancy nobody had ever seen them. Had she been put into a low dress she would have run and thrust her head into a bush.

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Yet she was not a shy girl by any means; it was merely her instinct to draw the line dividing the seen from the unseen higher than they do it in towns. The self-consciousness shown would have been vanity if a little more pronounced, dignity if a little less. Rays of male vision seem to have a tickling effect upon virgin faces in rural districts; she brushed hers with her hand, as if Gabriel had been irritating its pink surface by actual touch, and the free air of her previous movements was reduced at the same time to a chastened phase of itself.

Yet it was the man who blushed, the maid not at all. A perception caused him to withdraw his own eyes from hers as suddenly as if he had been caught in a theft. Recollection of the strange antics she had indulged in when passing through the trees was succeeded in the girl by a nettled palpitation, and that by a hot face. It was a time to see a woman redden who was not given to reddening as a rule; not a point in the milkmaid but was of the deepest rose-colour.

The sympathetic man still looked the other way, and wondered when she would recover coolness sufficient to justify him in facing her again. He heard what seemed to be the flitting of a dead leaf upon the breeze, and looked. She had gone away.

With an air between that of Tragedy and Comedy Gabriel returned to his work. Five mornings and evenings passed. His want of tact had deeply offended her — not by seeing what he could not help, but by letting her know that he had seen it. The acquaintanceship might, however, have ended in a slow forgetting, but for an incident which occurred at the end of the same week.

One afternoon it began to freeze, and the frost increased with evening, which drew on like a stealthy tightening of bonds. Many a small bird went to bed supperless that night among the bare boughs. As the milking-hour drew near, Oak kept his usual watch upon the cowshed.

At last he felt cold, and shaking an extra quantity of bedding round the yearling ewes he entered the hut and heaped more fuel upon the stove. The wind came in at the bottom of the door, and to prevent it Oak laid a sack there and wheeled the cot round a little more to the south.

Then the wind spouted in at a ventilating hole — of which there was one on each side of the hut. Gabriel had always known that when the fire was lighted and the door closed one of these must be kept open — that chosen being always on the side away from the wind. Closing the slide to windward, he turned to open the other; on second thoughts the farmer considered that he would first sit down leaving both closed for a minute or two, till the temperature of the hut was a little raised.

His head began to ache in an unwonted manner, and, fancying himself weary by reason of the broken rests of the preceding nights, Oak decided to get up, open the slide, and then allow himself to fall asleep. He fell asleep, however, without having performed the necessary preliminary. How long he remained unconscious Gabriel never knew. During the first stages of his return to perception peculiar deeds seemed to be in course of enactment.

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His dog was howling, his head was aching fearfully — somebody was pulling him about, hands were loosening his neckerchief. Cumpararea este gata deci poti alerga cu Kentin. Cumpara tenesii de la magazin cand alegi tinuta pentru intalnire cu Rosa. Pentru a lua tenesii, trebuia sa fii de acord sa alergi cu Kentin in episodul anterior.

Deci dialogul depinde de episodul 27, SAU daca il alegi pe Kentin in episodul Dialogul apare in episodul 27 in timpul obiectivului: L-am gasit pe Kentin in hol. Dialogul are raspunsurile corecte ingrosate: Am invatat sa ma bucur de sporturi cand am fost in armata. Acum, nu exista zi in care sa nu alerg.

Oh, pot sa vin sa alerg cu tine? Cred ca mi-ar prinde bine. Da, ei bine, alergatul nu e acelasi lucru cu baschetul. Cu siguranta te vad in echipa de baschet, in orice caz! Daca te blochezi in camera si nu mai poti continua sa te intalnesti cu Kentin in parc, du-te la hainele tale si pune-ti adidasii de alergat.

Asta va debloca dialogul. Floare din plastic pentru tine: Ti-o da Priya, trebuie sa treci prin alegerile de dialog ale lui Iris, Melody si Priya. Nathaniel Kim e pre sensibila. Trebuie sa fiu atent la ce spun daca vreau sa ajung undeva cu ea… A. Hei, vorbesti despre prietena mea, stii, nu?! Sunt sigura ca vei invata cum sa o imblanzesti, ha ha. Cel putin, stii acum decat sa stii mai tarziu.

Crezi ca ar trebui sa ma duc? In opinia mea, e prea devreme. M-am uitat la el, curioasa. Voi da tot ce am mai bun ca sa il intreb daca este totul in regula. As prefera sa nu vorbesc despre asta aici. Vrei sa impartim restul? Te apropii de imaginea lui Nathaniel B. Cauti o anumita carte? Straniul caz al doctorului Jekyll si al domnului Hyde. Ma gandeam la Dracula. Portretul lui Dorian Grey. Castiel Acum aproape niciodata. Ei bine, din cand in cand. Asta nu e ceva foarte serios. Vei ajunge sa sfarsesti prin a avea probleme!

Fiecare cu gusturile sale… Nu veni sa te plangi la mine daca ea te deranjeaza dupa ceea ce i-ai spus. Nu imi pasa nici macar putin.

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E rar sa te vad ca intarzii… A. E rar sa te vad pe tine la timp. E rar sa te vad intr-o dispozitie asa de buna de dimineata. T-Tu nu il tineai in lesa? El nu isi agita coada… C. Ii va face putin bine. Deci…Ai avut o zi buna?

Deci…Il cunosti pe Leigh? E ceva in neregula? Voi incerca sa am o conversatie reala cu Castiel. Ar trebui sa ma uit pe meniu, de asemenea. Te apropii de imaginea lui Castiel C.

Voi scapa cu ajutorul baii si voi incerca sa compun ceva. Te apropii de imaginea lui Castiel B. Acum ne intrebam dac nu ar fi mai bine sa facem exact invers. Metoda voastra pare foarte eficienta. Daca as fi fost tu, nu as fi schimbat niciun lucru. Ei bine, nu sunt o scriitoare sau o muziciana, C. Daca as fi fost tu, as face altceva.

Poate ar trebui sa vorbim despre ceea ce s-a intamplat sambata noaptea… B. Vrei…Vrei sa mergi la intalnire cu mine? Am facut ceva gresit? Imaginea lui Castiel Lysander Nu stiu ce sa ma mai fac cu ea…Nu ma va asculta. Tu ar trebui sa fii mai direct. Evident ca ea nu intelege lucrurile cand esti amabil. Las-o, va renunta singura. Asta pentru ca te place. Vrei sa spui… Mult mai ciudat decat de obicei? Sa fiu sincera, ii pasa de mine cateodata.

Ar trebui sa fii mai amabil cu ea. Ma pregateam sa iti vorbesc despre ea… Imi fac griji pentru ea, de fapt. Acesta a fost un citata? Acesta a fost un citat de Jean de La Fontaine? Acesta a fost un citat de Victor Hugo? Asta nu e ceea ce ai comandat, corect? Nu, am comandat orez, nu cartofi prajiti.

Uh, da, asta este perfect. Te apropii de imaginea lui Lysander B. Metoda ta pare foarte eficienta. Daca as fi fost tu, nu as fi schimbat un lucru. Ei bine, nu sunt o scriitoare sau o muziciana, deci… C.

Imi aluneca mana in a lui. Imi pun mana intr-un mod ezitant pe pieptul lui. Doar m-am uitat la el, incercand sa imi coplesesc putin emotiile. Zambeste, viata e frumoasa! La ce te gandesti? E totul in regula? E-Eu chiar nu vreau ca oamenii sa ma vada cu acesi ochelari mari… A. Esti toata rosie…Vrei sa luam o pauza? Voi fi in regula.

Putem sa mergem putin mai usor? Poate am putea sa ne oprim pentru cateva minute? Aceste doua brute nu au ajutat deloc!

Demon nu e o bruta…El e doar puternic. Kiki e cel mai zvapaiat. Nu cred ca el ar rani o musca. Nu iti face griji, ei nu l-au atacat, ei doar… Incep sa se cunoasca.

Te apropii de imaginea lui Kentin B. Cred ca ar trebui sa vorbim. In legatura cu sambata noaptea… C. Kentin, imi pare rau. M-am tot intrebat multe lucruri in ultima vreme si ma va innebuni daca nu voi primi un raspuns.

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