Re: Outside the Roadhouse: Gwen & Sheriff Martin.
Cris said nothing 'bout Oliver being pleasant to interact with, huh? Nothing good, nothing bad, nothing. He nodded, but it coulda been aimed at the road, the granola bar in her hand, anything. It wasn't that he didn't like the gringo who worked at Sonrisa (onea 'em, anyway), but he felt more comfortable, let's say, talking to Jason and Hunter instead. Oliver reminded hima Melody in some ways, actually, but he wasn't thinking 'bout that now. "He say anything about trackin' you with GPS devices or are you just worried?" Cris knew less about Jude than Oliver, but he'd seen him around the forums, hassling Daniel, trying to crawl up Sam's asshole—which prolly biased him a bit too. "It's okay to be weirded out by questions. Nobody 'round here's good at boundaries."
That assessment included himself, but the guy didn't dwell on that.
He caught the foldinga Gwen's hands outta the cornera his eye, and he looked over, brief, when the girl pushed her hood down from red-brassed locks. He'd spoken with Peter, briefly. "Jason wasn't her boyfriend?" He'd thought she said he was. Cris smiled, a loose threada white in the dark cab. "I noticed," he saida her hair. "It looks nice." It was the thing to say, regardlessa whether or not it was the point. He supposed it did look nice, the way kids look nice when they clean up a lil bit, dirt off their noses and knees. "You ain't seein' him in person, are you? Peter."