His head shot up like he was a puppet with strings, attention straight and narrowed on the woman who looked more like a child who looked more like Bjork. Maybe. In a certain light.
"Oh, wondering if you had the time," he asked, arms folded over his chest, and back against what he was rapidly coming to think of as his car.
"Wondering if you had the time," he asked, from the church steps, from the entrance to the Lord's house. "My watch's slow and time passes too quickly."