[Giving a breathless little laugh of his own, Jack scrubbed at his eyes, leaning against Eugene and getting his feet under himself again. The ring was still in his hands, and he looked down into the narrow space between them, turning it over in his fingers again with that same faint thrill of warmth and wonder. He'd never owned anything so small and so valuable, and it was almost frightening, to just be handed so much money in such an easily-lost form.]
Can . . . do you think I could get a chain for it, maybe? I'll scratch the hell out of it if it's on my finger.
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Can . . . do you think I could get a chain for it, maybe? I'll scratch the hell out of it if it's on my finger.