<div style="text-align: justify;">Mari waited for Dumas pacing back and forth. There was just so much she had to say, that words escaped her. And for someone who made a living out of talking to people, that was a pretty odd thing. Yet, it was different. That was work, this was intensely personal. More personal than she thought anything in her life would ever be. Being honest with herself, Mari took a deep breath. There was no way to prepare for that. It would have to be made up as she went. <br/><br/>When Dumas stepped into her apartment, Mari stopped pacing and watched him. The guilt in his expression was enough to make her heart ache. Poor Dum. It was not his fault, not at all. As he spoke, she only listened, her eyes gazing at his face. His last words made Mari shake her head on a negative. She pointed to her bed. "Sit down." The order - it <span style="font-style: italic">was</span> an order - would be repeated if necessary, until Dumas sat down. Then, Mari would stand in front of him.<br/><br/>"Okay, listen to me, Dum. First of all, wipe that guilty expression off your face. It was not your fault, it was <span style="font-style: italic">hers</span>. Second, yeah, I should kick you in the balls, sending someone else to talk to me like you don't know me. What the hell was that about?". Mari took a deep breath before continuing. "Third... my first time <span style="font-style: italic">was</span> with someone special. Someone very special and dear to me." Another deep breath, and a second's hesitation, and Mari walked closer to Dumas. Her tiny body slipped in between his legs and she pulled him closer, letting him rest his head on her chest and hear her heart beating. "I wouldn't want my first time to be with anyone else but you, darling. The <span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-style: italic">only</span></span> thing I regret about this is that I don't remember it."</div>