Re: Above the antique store: Cat & Bruce
"Really? The least you could do is recognize me." She sounded younger, of course, but it wasn't a jarring difference. Age affected everything, that was true enough, but her voice had always been on the low side, and she looked down at herself in the dark, as if examining herself. "Last time I checked, I didn't look like a skinny Scot." And, of course, she didn't.
And her eyes were focused now, accustomed to the darkness that was quiet after the yellow of streetlights outside. He looked precisely as he had when she'd watched him sleep in the manor, well, nearly. This place looked nothing like Bruce's monstrosity on the lake, and the bed was smaller, but it was the same in all the important ways. And the man on the bed, he was just as eternal. She looked for marked signs of decline, of improvement, of anything at all.
And, as if she owned this small space and everything in it, she pulled a burger from her bag and began unwrapping it carefully with fingers that boasted chipped fingernails painted dark. "Who's frustrating you now?" she asked, a nod of her chin to his tablet. "Which one of the children?" As if there could possibly be any other option.