"That makes sense. We could always say Phil did it, he'd love the limelight but then he'd never be able to actual prove it was him because he is a terrible artist," she chuckled. Lydia slipped her hands in her back pockets as they walked to a convenience store at the corner of the block.
"That sucks. She should care about you, that's terrible."
Lydia held the door open for him when they got to the store and slipped in behind him, the money for the pack of cigarettes already being drawn out of her pocket.