She reached out, lightly touching Rosie’s coat, the leper clutching at a passing messiah, and the other girl turned, her scowl softening as realisation settled in and she threw her arms around her, her embrace so utterly unlike that of Agatha’s.
“Missed you, you twat,” she whispered in her ear before she let her go.
Madeline smiled broadly and pointed in the direction of the bar.
“You want a dog?” she asked, and then shook her head. “A drink, I mean.”
Rosie blinked.
“A dog?”
She smiled stupidly.
“You remember the dog that used to sit outside, up on the roof?”
Sudden understanding flooded Rosie’s face.
“Oh, shit, yeah.” She laughed. “Aww, I feel bad forgetting him.”
“Let’s have a drink to mourn his passing then,” Madeline announced, pulling her friend away from the others that had gathered around her, all perhaps, in need of something held within the folds of that massive coat.
At the bar, the two of them slapped their palms down flat against the wood in synchronicity
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