Re: sushi-time: adrian, patrick, lou
"Twelve, maybe," Lou shot in Patrick's direction, "Fourteen. You got leggy. Fourteen is around the time kids get leggy," she said with the sagacity of someone in the know. She knew about the stages kids went through, the times they were small and the world could easily be broken but they trusted a bunch of people just for showing up and existing. She knew about the times they grew out of it. It had been a tight pack, one that took in people's kids and their partners as well as the ones that grew fur.
Lou knew nothing about whether her relatives were pack-rats. Alice had been one, Lou wasn't. She was tumbleweed, deliberate and stubborn about it and she discarded a lot of crap she didn't think she needed. Alice had stacked photo albums and fragments of life leftover from when it was being lived. "California rolls? You brought me here to eat supermarket sushi?" An eyebrow cracked in Adrian's direction, and Lou wasn't big on fish. Just wasn't her thing, but the small-town thing was schtick, and she'd eaten sushi before.
"Bring on the cheap beer. Is that sushi?" Bulgogi sounded like something hocked up from the back of the throat, but Lou didn't speak any languages but American. "How's life? How's a cold open suit you?" She scratched the side of her neck with blunt fingertips, the sprawl of limbs as deliberate and comfortable as everything else. "I didn't tell Pat a thing, kid. He showed up, unloaded broken plates, drank my beer, shifted my mattress and left." She flashed an easy grin in their collective direction.