She sees that too and scowls. “Don’t look touched. I’m still mean.”
“Yes.”
She sets the tray down. “You planning to ask her something?”
I do not answer quickly enough.
Darlene’s eyes light with terrible knowledge. “Oh, hell.”
“Do not interfere.”
“I live to interfere.”
“No.”
“You’re going to botch it.”
“I know.”
That stops her.
She studies me for a moment, then sighs. “Ask plainly.”
“I intend to.”
“No, you intend to say something like, ‘Evie, would you consent to scheduled social companionship in a controlled environment?’”
I close my mouth.
Darlene points at me. “I knew it.”
“That phrasing is clear.”
“That phrasing sounds like you’re inviting her to inspect a warehouse.”
“What should I say?”
“Would you like to go out with me?”
“That is imprecise.”
“It’s human.”
“It could mean outside.”
“It does not.”
“She may misunderstand.”
“She won’t.”
“She misunderstands many things intentionally.”
“Because she likes watching you panic.”
“I do not panic.”
Darlene pats my arm. Or rather, she pats the lower part of my arm she can reach without standing on a crate. “You are panicking right now with excellent posture.”
