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&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“No one’s ever accused me of wearing my heart on my sleeve, either,” I added. <br>  
 
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“No one’s ever accused me of wearing my heart on my sleeve, either,” I added. <br>  
 
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“What’s the point in doing that?  Just gets it broken,” Nika snickered wryly. Then she drew a deep breath and changed the subject. “You know... I’ve heard the stories.  Even seen some things out here in the Black.  But wasn’t sure they weren’t just makin’ up the Reavers thing.  Sure as all hell wish they had been.”<br>
 
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“What’s the point in doing that?  Just gets it broken,” Nika snickered wryly. Then she drew a deep breath and changed the subject. “You know... I’ve heard the stories.  Even seen some things out here in the Black.  But wasn’t sure they weren’t just makin’ up the Reavers thing.  Sure as all hell wish they had been.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Yes.  The ''stories'',” I snorted.  “They never quite match reality.  And we only tangled with one.  I don’t want to think what would have happened had there been more.”  I paused, not sure how she’d take what I’d say next.  “This your first?”<br>
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&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Yes.  The stories.” I snorted.  “They never quite match reality.  And we only tangled with one.  I don’t want to think what would have happened had there been more.”  I paused, not sure how she’d take what I’d say next.  “This your first?”<br>
 
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Yeah... must have gotten lucky or something.”  She opened her eyes and peered at me. “I take it that it’s not your first, though.”<br>
 
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Yeah... must have gotten lucky or something.”  She opened her eyes and peered at me. “I take it that it’s not your first, though.”<br>
 
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“No.”  Memory stirred.  I stared out the bridge windows, my hands fisted in my pockets. “Not my first.”<br>
 
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“No.”  Memory stirred.  I stared out the bridge windows, my hands fisted in my pockets. “Not my first.”<br>

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