Mmmhmmm. Zo's giving you the WUE sign, Til. Just a joke. A story to tell. Or to gloss over. A humorous anecdote. Here and then poof. Any concern or curiosity is dissipating quicker than that pile of ash in the street.
To Zo, in her black world, Whiskey is as good as any other.
She lights another cigarette and leans against the black car. Watches Til scream, the way her mouth seems to unhinge, the way the veins in her neck and temples pop. The way the sound seems to carry across the water, moving further and further away until it's absorbed by the trees on the other side.
It's too hard for Zo to let go like that. Cigarette smoking and whiskey drinking is one thing. Letting her body animate as Til's just did seems obscene to her. She even opens her mouth just a little, her tongue fighting against her front teeth, her throat closing up, the sound impossible to release.
Her mouth closes. She takes a haul on the smoke instead.
"You've been here before?" But its not really a question.