I glare at him."I can't reach my hair," I snap, wiggling my bound fingers.Bowen's eyebrows shoot up."A bit snarky this morning, Fotard?"I sigh, a feeling bone-deep, weary ache in my whole body." Can you blame me, Botard?"He runs his fingers over his scruffy chin and studies me."No. I'd be pretty snarky if I smelled like you. And I bet you're dying to brush your teeth.
-Bethany Wiggins
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