[And for his part he doesn't question it, though he wants to. It itches at him. But he plays docile, something afforded by waiting out those two extra hours. No confrontation, no questions. She's not really the one he'd like to ask.]
Not a problem.
[And he ducks out of the room with the serving plate. This, too, is an odd echo. Dinner on their laps, the same choices most night of the week, when carefully matched shifts have left them weary. He helps himself to a bite of satay while it's still just the wrong side of hot, and speaks with his mouthful.]
no subject
Not a problem.
[And he ducks out of the room with the serving plate. This, too, is an odd echo. Dinner on their laps, the same choices most night of the week, when carefully matched shifts have left them weary. He helps himself to a bite of satay while it's still just the wrong side of hot, and speaks with his mouthful.]
You'll have to give me the number of this place.