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[ Elena would like to believe she has the world's best poker face. Especially when it comes to Damon. The sudden stillness of her features and the flicker in her eyes is too telling to win any poker games, and soon she's turning around towards the kitchen island to set her plate down, escape any scrutiny. ] Yeah. [ The word slips from her, damning and true and unbidden. It startles her, because that's not what - she didn't even give herself a chance to figure out what she wanted to say.
It takes a moment longer than necessary to lean the side of one hip on the counter, her fingers playing with the bread of her sandwich before bringing it to her lips for a nibble. Her appetite? What's left of it? Gone. ]