[She didn't look up and she didn't turn around. She listened to footsteps over sticky boards (sneakers not heels: not everyone dressed for a dive like they did for a party, she just figured she brought the party with her) and her chin edged up, a soft sweep of shiny blond parting over her shoulders as she threw the grin like a fighting star at the kid in sneakers and jeans.
Not a kid anymore. There was a fractional widening at the corners of Dinah's blue eyes, the sheer clarity focusing in with laser intent as she picked off all the differences. Someone had gone and got herself all grown up. Dinah slid sideways off the bar-stool without ceremony, and hugged. She hugged the way her father had, hard and fast and without a second of delay.]
Look at you. Where's the skinny kid in purple gone?