“So,” Ash said in a low voice, hands on his hips, “anything new with you since Saturday?” Bel smirked. “Nothing of note. Took up knitting.” “Really?” Ash bobbed his head. “I, for one, wouldn’t put needles in your hands.” “Why not?” “You seem like the stabby type,” he said, their eyes meeting, a slow blink. “Thank you.” Bel nodded, leaning closer. “You look like a sad tangerine.” “Thank you.” He nodded back.
