By the time Bruce returns from kitchen with a plate of his own, Jess has returned the table to its former neatness and sits facing the table with proper etiquette, both chairs tucked back in. He'd let his train of thought distract him, but now he resumes eating, skewering a mushroom with his fork.
"Too long, if you want the truth," is his wry answer as he turns the fork between his fingers. Two months ago, he might've let some of his indignant anger show through, but now he voices it as an objective fact, slightly removed from himself. "Eighty four days. They brought me in back in the summer. Probably not what you want to hear."
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By the time Bruce returns from kitchen with a plate of his own, Jess has returned the table to its former neatness and sits facing the table with proper etiquette, both chairs tucked back in. He'd let his train of thought distract him, but now he resumes eating, skewering a mushroom with his fork.
"Too long, if you want the truth," is his wry answer as he turns the fork between his fingers. Two months ago, he might've let some of his indignant anger show through, but now he voices it as an objective fact, slightly removed from himself. "Eighty four days. They brought me in back in the summer. Probably not what you want to hear."