"The sister of a muse is dating my dad and she likes my Instagram," Lyra echoed back at him, fully on board on how strange it was. It was so good to be able to talk about it with him though, secrets were a pain in the ass, and saying it out loud seemed to give her more of a handle on it.
She took a swig of the beer and leaned comfortably back on her hand, wanting to try and catch him up on everything she could. It'd been a crazy-ass week. "She said she met Dali, and Warhol and Judy... someone arty from the 70s, it was so weird, just having coffee and she's casually dropping art gallery names into the conversation. No 'my immortality must remain a secret' around her, not like some dickheads."