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Em met him in the bar, during a break in the awards dinner she was attending. They chatted briefly and had a cigarette, and said they’d probably see each other at the bar again when next there was a break in proceedings.

Or perhaps, he said, they could have a nightcap later. His name was Jean and he was French. He was a big man with a nice laugh and twinkling eyes. Em hadn’t met him before and wouldn’t again. He was from the other side of the world and was in town only for the convention of which this boring dinner was part.

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