[ The bump at his knee pivots his attention — from where it rests, somewhere amorphous (it's a little hard to imagine, somehow, that Karen comes home to an empty fridge, staring at bare shelves with the fluorescent blaring in the middle of the night, not with the connections she has to have in her life, the loyalty she inspires in others like it's nothing), into the here and now.
Levi bumps his knee back. Not as forceful, not as firm. But it stays there solidly, resting against hers, on purpose. ]
Any F's I get, I'm blaming you.
[ His mouth crooks upwards. They both know he doesn't mean that.
She offers him her hand, so they can shake on it. So he does. A firm grip, warm; the broad span of his hand in hers.
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Levi bumps his knee back. Not as forceful, not as firm. But it stays there solidly, resting against hers, on purpose. ]
Any F's I get, I'm blaming you.
[ His mouth crooks upwards. They both know he doesn't mean that.
She offers him her hand, so they can shake on it. So he does. A firm grip, warm; the broad span of his hand in hers.
And pizza grease. ]