And just to prove we’re working on it:

Hudson rises from the table in one smooth sweep, rolling his sleeve back down with brisk flicks.  The awkward, skinny smallness slides off him when he steps forward, as if he’s unfurling to fill the whole room.  John fights the urge to back away from the sudden gust of intensity.  “Yes, be a bit of trouble if you did carry that name around, I imagine,” he remarks, ignoring John’s question.  “Your idea, or his?  —No, of course, he wouldn’t want to dilute the brand, would he?”

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