“I’m not quite sure I heard you.” His fingers fidgeted with the frayed cover of Cold Mountain, which he owned for years but never could manage to finish. He wasn’t sure if it was the romance that pained him or the woes of a Confederate soldier that deterred him. He hoped leaving his home for the cafe would force his mind to focus. Having no such luck, Laurence’s attention was not focused on the person sitting adjacent to him, and what he believed to have been a question. “Sorry, I’m afraid my head isn’t in the right place right now.”
“You don’t smell sick.” Indigo muttered to himself. The odor wasn’t much, but the wolf was now sensitive to the bacteria considering how it took over the town and he’d started research not long after the vampire massacre. “Do you have a friend who’s ill?” In that case, Indigo often found himself distracted to though he was also the sort to escape through black text on white paper.












