Re: Outside the Roadhouse: Gwen & Sheriff Martin.
It wasn't awkward, so much as it was confusing, Gwen sitting there, hands to the air vents, groping for the heat. But, Cris said nothing about it. He knew she was cold and he would rather have her warm than aware that what she was doing wasn't 'xactly normal. He shoulda brought her a coat, he realized. He'd given his old one to Hunter. He looked over, into the back seat, to see if there was anything usable around.
There wasn't. There was a carseat, there was a diaper bag stashed on the floor, unzipped. The lil paira boxing gloves 'round the rearview bounced with the unpredictable terraina the road out this far and Cris looked forward again. He had his hoodie, but he didn't think it'd be enough.
"Those kids," he started, meaning Oliver and his brother, "ain't graced with many social skills." It was an understatement. She pulled out a granola bar and the wrapper crinkled under her palm as she turned it over. Cris glanced at his passenger. "Oh yeah?" There was nothing in his tone but mild, avuncular conversation. "Frienda hers?"