Re: Brianna, Brian, Open
Brian gave her palms a friendly squeeze and looked back. A neon wall sign advertising cold beer reflected in the werewolf’s brown irises and widening pupils as he gazed at Brianna, seeing what she wanted him to see of the chicanery going on in Le Breeze: miniature people who had run amok, regular sized ones reacting to the chaos, Flynn and staff to the rescue, carting them off like the hapless parents of a set of quadruplets. The rest of Lucky’s was relegated to background noise, sights and sounds that floated in his periphery. It was a challenge to be in two places at once, but if he really focused, he could keep it going for a while; Brian was accustomed to seeing the world through two perspectives. He relaxed the hold on Brianna’s memories of Le Breeze and drummed up his own of the last time he ran into Flynn at the Roadhouse with his arm over the back of a booth like Searchlight’s take on James Dean. He paid attention to the telepath’s physical cues. ‘You sure about that nothing?’