[There's the slightest tilt of her head, the look she always gets when she's running that sort of question through the labyrinthine and ever-shifting rules that govern the answers. She isn't, though; not exactly, and the edges of her eyes crinkle a little.
She's thinking that it would have been a commonplace question, once upon a time. That it isn't, now, which means the rules (as they ought to stand, as they still do in the back of her mind,) don't apply.]
Unless you know a bowling alley that'd be open.
[The words tease a smile out onto her lips. Maybe a drink is a start. Maybe-- maybe, that's all right?]
→ we are not what you think we are we are golden
She's thinking that it would have been a commonplace question, once upon a time. That it isn't, now, which means the rules (as they ought to stand, as they still do in the back of her mind,) don't apply.]
Unless you know a bowling alley that'd be open.
[The words tease a smile out onto her lips. Maybe a drink is a start. Maybe-- maybe, that's all right?]