Nothing.” Her attention flicks to Levi, and she folds her arms. “Tattoos?” “No, ma’am.” “Piercings?” “None.” “Stance on alcohol?” Levi’s gaze tips toward the ceiling, and it’s clear Mom rehearsed this when she snaps, “Don’t think about your answer, or I’ll assume you’re lying to me.” “I don’t like wine. Beer is an affront to nature. I’m trying to remember the few things I did like, but it’s been a while. I think I liked whiskey.” Mom hums, probably debating whether the fact he’s tasted alcohol at all is allowed. Finally, she says, “That’s not a stance.” Levi points. “You’re like your daughter
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The mom’s inquisition
