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[His smells her before he sees her. His nostrils flare with the familiar scent mixed with all the nerves she's feeling to match his own. Oz draws in a deep, calming breath before opening his eyes and seeing her. A corner of his lips twitches, almost smiling but not quite.
She's changed. She's older. Her eyes look older. But he's older too so he supposes that he looks the same to her... older.
For now, he stays seated in the far corner of the cell.] Hey. Picnic-y days are the best.
[He pauses a brief moment, drawing in another slow breath and trying so hard not to think about the last time they met.] You look good.