"Outdoor stuff," Avery said. "Hunting, boating." He wondered if Hannah was one of those people who thought that everyone who lived down South was a tobacco-chewing, beer-bellied Bubba with a billed hat. Some of the guys in his hometown were like that, to be sure. It didn't matter, anyway. He frowned a little when she said she hadn't been outside and almost opened his mouth to say that she should be sure to take someone with her, because there was so much snow and so much vast empty space, not to mention a frozen-over pond. But he didn't, because surely she knew how to take care of herself by now, and she probably wouldn't welcome his unsolicited opinions.
Avery wasn't most guys, clearly. He didn't consider punching the shit out of someone something to be proud of. He'd done it because there had been no other option, and it wasn't something Vernon would have expected. The burly CNT had thought he'd found easy prey, but it hadn't been quite that simple. "Yeah, he deserved it," he said, picking up his paper napkin and looking around for crumbs to wipe up and, finding none, wiping his mouth again for good measure. He was done eating, and he thought it was about time for him to head to bed. At least he could go to his room, where he wouldn't have to talk to anyone else and maybe make some huge verbal mishap.