I mussed his hair, which I knew he hated. “You barely met him. How would you know?” “I don’t know. You meet that guy, and you expect to be told what to do, and you just know you’re going to do it. I wouldn’t even be pissed to do it—I’d just get it done and get out of his way, know what I mean?” “She doesn’t, young master. She has no clue what you mean,” Mr. Tom said solemnly. “She barely knows how to get out of her own way.”
