[ He recognizes a subtle invitation when he sees one, but pays her no mind just yet, still an odd bird pecking around at his things. His memory is, after all, a thing of marvel, but not perfect. He plucks a file of a one Jake English and knows it's wrong as soon as he chooses it. ]
You manage. [ He says so first lackadaisically, passive, and then thumbs through the pages in his hand before he sticks them back up. Eight plus a number, then. ] Eleven, I think. [ With a quizzical peer back, he folds his hands behind him again. ] Jumps. Perhaps twelve but certainly eleven.
But the caged bird still, [ he turns to her, with a flippant shrug, ] shits, I'm sure.
no subject
[ He recognizes a subtle invitation when he sees one, but pays her no mind just yet, still an odd bird pecking around at his things. His memory is, after all, a thing of marvel, but not perfect. He plucks a file of a one Jake English and knows it's wrong as soon as he chooses it. ]
You manage. [ He says so first lackadaisically, passive, and then thumbs through the pages in his hand before he sticks them back up. Eight plus a number, then. ] Eleven, I think. [ With a quizzical peer back, he folds his hands behind him again. ] Jumps. Perhaps twelve but certainly eleven.
But the caged bird still, [ he turns to her, with a flippant shrug, ] shits, I'm sure.