The other woman lifting her hands up instinctively was an added comfort in this newly confusing time. Her son might be thinking of marrying some girl she’d never even heard of, or was involved in some braindead scheme, but she was still scary, hot, and had the biggest boobs in the room, and would get a gratuitous amount of pleasure out of flaying her son alive (and her husband for insisting they come and putting her in this awkward situation) when they swung by his little apartment later.
She frowned hard at the woman, or rather through her as she was no longer focused on her face despite staring so candidly into it.
“Yes,” she said after a long, drawn out moment of staring into space and trying to figure out just what in the hell the little moron was up to, “most do, but my son seems to have inherited his father’s,” she put a fair bit of emphasis on that, making sure the woman knew that it was definitely Katsuo and not her, “stubborn, willful manner.”