Octavia straightened up, finally, looking over. Post-swim, she was back in what passed for her usual clothes for this time of year (very sweatpants-oriented), but her hair was still a little damp, against her shoulders.
She gave him the softest little huff. "Why's it called that?" she asked, reaching for the glass.
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She gave him the softest little huff. "Why's it called that?" she asked, reaching for the glass.