He looked back at her (momentarily distracted by her fingers around the length of salami) and frowned slightly, like he didn’t understand why she should be asking. Sometimes that was the best way to deal with it, take some of the heat off. “Eighteen, why?” he asked, casual as anything. He wanted to go a little older, he could pull off nineteen, surely, but he’d already told Ava he was eighteen and if you were going to lie, you had to pick a lie and commit. “How old’re you?”