Maizie knew Day well enough to know when her pseudo-aunt was teasing, and so the jest about making Maizie do her paperwork didn't elicit more of a response than an eye roll. If Day had really needed the help, Maizie probably could have found it in her to lend a hand.
Shifting to tuck her legs up beneath her, Maizie thought of the duffel bag of snack she kept hoarded away in the Oval Office. "Ok, yeah, I might have developed a little bit of shelter smarts over the past couple of years. Friendliest faces in the kitchen, who gets cranky when the heat sets in -- that sort of thing. I know this place pretty well." The rest of Austin, on the other hand, she had little experience with. For a while it hadn't mattered, but it seemed like the politics of the rest of the city were encroaching on the LBJ's little bubble more and more lately. Or maybe Dad's murder had just opened her eyes
Maizie glanced down at her hands, which were fiddling with a dangling thread at the hem of her shirt. She stilled them, smoothing the fabric flat again. She hadn't come to Day's office looking for a deep conversation, but it occured to her that if she did ever want to follow up on what Ezra had said about the Hellhounds being a bunch of prax dealers, Aunt Day was the person to ask.
"You ever been to that bar that just opened up?" Maizie ducked her head, realizing that bringing up a place that served alcohol probably wasn't the best plan, considering her recent fight with Savannah. "Not that I want to go to it or anything, but it's new, and that doesn't happen a whole lot around here."