[ it's a quiet few minutes up. the creak of wood, scuff of boot on stone. cedric drops his end once they’ve drawn into the hall. he isn't done, only needs a break: thumb dug into the meat of his hand, the strange, numb ache of anchor. a sore spot.
at last,]
Fine. [ he'll come see. ] But when Baudin asks y'to dinner, you're saying yes.
no subject
at last,]
Fine. [ he'll come see. ] But when Baudin asks y'to dinner, you're saying yes.