Re: Quicklog: Penny and Cris
Mi cebollita. [The gold-pan flash of a grin blinkered out in a second from Cris' face, but it had been there, brief as it was. Then Penny was picking up, talking about Carson, and the man in the corduroy jacket took to smacking his palm against the closed fist of his other hand, swing, smack, swing, smack, a show of nerves, broadcasting in minute violence.] Stayin' with you's not softening her, huh? [He talked without listening to himself, his mind off its tether, circling back only when Penny moved into his space and he was jarred back to the present.
He looked down at her, at her uncertain smile, hanging on there, like it was nailed on one corner, and Cris let his hands fall to his sides. He frowned a little, a blackening across tired face.] You miss her? Olivia? [His brows contracted like a clap of thunder.] I dunno how you do it. Stay put together like you do.