Mmhm. [The beer's lifted from his fingertips gently enough, eyes still trained on the monitors for a moment longer. It's only then that she can feel her own transparency— the focus of his stare and what he might be thinking— like some soft warning against forgetting that he isn't so dense as the average vato.
The files keep downloading; she turns her chair to swing around and face him. Finally.]
You said they're unhappy. [Los Muertos, she means - expecting him to catch the segue.]
no subject
The files keep downloading; she turns her chair to swing around and face him. Finally.]
You said they're unhappy. [Los Muertos, she means - expecting him to catch the segue.]