He’s good with his hands. He always finds the right place to scratch behind my ears. He doesn’t talk too much, but he pays attention. Her ears flick towards him again. He pays a lot of attention to you. Julien’s mind is so caught up on the phrase ‘good with his hands’ that he takes a moment to process Rumi’s last remark. “He pays attention to me?” Rumi’s laughter rolls through his mind. He watches you more carefully than Fisk watches a roast chicken. It’s absurd to witness.
