Lyra rather felt like sitting in the corner of a cafe and glaring might've helped exorcise some of the current feelings that were bubbling away toward Archer, not to mention she'd quite like the opportunity to interrogate him herself— just how old are you, you Edward Cullen fuck? But if Rosario said Meet up after, then "Meet up after," she echoed in agreement.
She was bound to get the chance to jab her finger into his chest and demand what the hell he'd been playing at, surely. And she probably shouldn't get in the way of Rosario finding out legit who her dad was.
"Wanna bust this basket open?" she asked, leaning forward and sliding her hands out of the grass-that-might-have-been-clover (she still wasn't feeling up to checking) so she could lift the gingham cloth from the food. Beautifully golden bread rolls covered in seeds, the rosiest apples, the juiciest looking pears, even a wedge of hard cheese wrapped up in waxed linin. "Welp, world's bonkers," she said, passing Rosario a roll. "But at least we ain't hungry?"