The back of his neck prickles as he leans against the railing and folds his arms, slowly turning his head as though to take in the entire view: the Turtle Pond below them, the Great Lawn stretching beyond it, the just-budding trees beyond that. Hoping he won't appear to be focusing too intently on one particular piece of that view.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2009-05-03 03:24 pm (UTC)"How about you," he asks, "you come here a lot?"