"Subtle," Audrey remarked in reference to his parting shot at Georgie. "She'll never get that, unless she passed elementary spelling." The more amiable act that she'd put on for Georgie's sake faded as she repositioned her chair such that her back was to the wall, and she could see both Simms' cell and the jail's door at the same time. It was automatic, a long-ingrained habit from a lifetime of needing to look over her shoulder, watch her back.
"Inconvenient at best," she said, shrugging. "And I question the impulse control of anyone who thinks setting a fire in the middle of the night in our main shelter is a good idea." She wasn't a fire inspector; maybe Madison had more control over the fires she set than was readily apparent. She had no way of knowing. That in itself irked her somewhat, but she wasn't going to worry too hard about things outside of her control. "How's life in the pound?"