Re: Kit & Tory: Area 52
Kit didn't think overlong on names in general. They were handed over when you were too formless to have much of a mark to leave on the process and far too small to say. Somebody might be a Charles or a Daniel or a Thomas, or it might be patently unsuited to them. He didn't think about it, save the brief thought that Tory's face flexed between something that looked like shyness, amusement and a little embarrassment. "I didn't make much at eight," he said lightly.
Which was partly what lay behind the name. Kit had taken his share of licks for a name most thought sissy, if not downright girlish. Kit was what his momma had called him long enough he was attached to it. There were few things Kit cared deeply about, but in all those cases, his stubbornness was surprisingly strong. He smiled another calibration of amusement at the confessional. "I'm twenty-seven," he said, dryly. "I'm just old-fashioned, I suppose." He smiled again, and it didn't appear defensive, and he watched Tory sag, a little. Like the wires had been taken out of his shoulders where they hitched to his ears.