“Wow, I.”
Even now it’s hard not to just fall down and cry, to put her arms over her head and bow low in open mockery of prayer, like she’s having her head kicked in and she’s waiting it out. It’s easier than that, though, to look away and finish unlocking the front door, to push it open and wave Cass in and hold her breath as she does so.
"You look horrible! Don’t even worry about paying, alright, this morning’s all on the house. Call it my Christmas gift to you, yeah?"
[Meanwhile, Cassandra is oblivious. There's that same odd itch right at the base of her neck, crawling down her spine. But it's minor. Nothing like electric fire. Just another product of exhaustion, probably. Just something else to put on the sidelines. She crosses the doorstep and dumps her purse on the nearest applicable open space. This probably means the floor.]
Are you sure? I have. So much change. I should probably go to a Coinstar or something sometime.
[She is never going to a Coinstar.]
Oh! Um. Thank you. It's almost Christmas, isn't it? I should've bought you something.
