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He makes her smile, more lost in the ideas of human interaction than she is, and more at a loss for understanding anything she thinks is meant to be normal. He's a slate constantly filling itself, warm and adjusting to awkwardness as well as any young thing can, growing past the boy who blushed at cherubs into an uncertain young man who wavered between understandable and unknown. He is, in her estimation, becoming the summation of a proper boy -- the right blend of mysterious and inexplicable and fun, amusing, attractive, all descriptors that added up to Martin Darkov, kind, curious, learning, boy-who-is-sometimes-a-lion or not.