Aug 12, 2024
closed for: @laureljacobs
where: driftwood
With a newspaper in hand -- physical, he refused to do digital -- Bo's eyes were scanning the financial news section when he felt a sensation he knew well. He folds the paper down so his view was no longer obstructed, eyes landing on a familiar face that he liked to avoid where possible occupying the table nearest to his.
"Laurel," He says curtly, no warmth in the greeting. "I thought I could feel daggers my way, should have guessed you were here."
