Re: [Cafeteria: Gwen & Dylan]
[Dylan made a gesture with his fork toward the kitchen. Wasn't polite, but Leda didn't figure table manners mattered.] Their eggs don't taste like nothing. Real eggs, done right, they got flavor to ruin. [He blinked, when she brought up Doritos. Not because it was a real gear-shift, because hell, they were on the kind of conversation that would make the labcoat he saw regular proud, but because of the past-tense and the boyfriend wrapped around each other like string through a bike wheel.]
He an ex long? [He didn't think so. He leaned forward, prodded his phone past a view of a bunch of different tights. Starbursts and skulls and fireflies and bees. Dylan paid attention to the phone full of tights same way he paid attention to anything he was interested in. He smiled at her, saved the page and shoved the phone in his pocket.] Not for me. For my sister. She would think your tights are rad. I'm a guard. Which lab?