[Like a small dog pacing, Wysteria shifts on her seat but doesn't lower the point of her attention from him as he fishes up the joint. It is still there when that first new exhale of bitter smoke has dissipated.
(She is aware, very distantly, that the back of her neck is no longer hot. The flush of embarrassment which had lurked there must have faded.)]
no subject
(She is aware, very distantly, that the back of her neck is no longer hot. The flush of embarrassment which had lurked there must have faded.)]
Do you think he counts you as one?
[(Yes, he has made a mistake.)]