Lou pounded, and she pounded and she pounded and she pounded. Most people would have given up long ago, thinking a few knocks were more than enough. If those knocks were met with silence, obviously, the person wasn't home. Not Lou though. Lou figured if her first knocks weren't answered, why then she just wasn't knocking loud enough! And silence? Pah! That meant nothing. Lou wouldn't budge until she was given proof that the person she was visiting wasn't hiding in their house hoping she would go away. It was pretty obvious that Lou'd gotten that treatment quite a few times in her life. Not that she cared.
Besides, she KNEW Lino was home. She could hear him moving around in there. She kept pounding on his door anyways, just for good measure. Lou was kind of OCD about things like that. Were she to be analyzed by a shrink, they'd probably tell her this stemmed back to a deep seated fear of being forgotten due to her wacky childhood and careless mother. Lou'd never believe that though. Insecurities, though very real for everyone, including Lou herself, did not exist in her idealized picture of things.
When he opened the door, Lou gave him a big grin, shoved the plateful of cookies at his chest, and sauntered through the door as though she owned the place. After living in this slum of a building, she kind of felt like she did. "Why in the world do you constantly ask me about my pasta, Lino? I told you the first time, I don't have any pasta!" Okay, so spanish wasn't her forte. It was such an odd little friendship they had here.