[ Four hundred is a long, long time to be alone. He feels a pang of sympathy well up inside him, a resonating ache in his own chest because he knows - does he ever know - that nobody should have to be alone for that long.
He doesn't know what happened to the rest of her people, and he's not sure it's a good idea to ask. But he has her name, at least. That's progress, right? His smile gets a little bigger. ]
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He doesn't know what happened to the rest of her people, and he's not sure it's a good idea to ask. But he has her name, at least. That's progress, right? His smile gets a little bigger. ]
Jack Frost. Just Jack is fine, though.
[ A beat - ]
Would you like another friend?