The man waggled a finger at her. “No,umis not an answer.”
Aida pointed at the painting. “He has two left feet.”
The intruder put his hands on his hips and stared at Goethe’s two black left shoes, then burst out laughing. “Well, by the gods, I think you might be right about at least this.”
“I’m right about a lot of things,” Aida said, indignant.
He guffawed. “That’s what everyone thinks. You’re no different.”
Aida could feel the tips of her ears growing hot. “Who are you?”
“Mo.”
This time it was Aida who chuckled. “Ah. I was warned about you.”
Mo raised an eyebrow. “Well, perhaps that person was right too. I should come with a warning label. And what did they warn you about?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” The retort flew to Aida’s lips.
“Ha! And an edge to you too. They didn’t mention that when they warned me aboutyou.”
Aida refused to let this man rankle her. “What can I help you with, Mo?”
He leaned a hand against the wall next to the Tischbein. “Nothing.”
“Why are you here?” she asked.
“Why not?”
Aida stared at him. He stared back.
“You’re mocking me,” she said.
He clapped his hands together and pointed a finger at her like a gun. “Bingo! Smart girl. Smart girl.”
Annoyed as she was with thegirldescriptor, she instinctively knew if she called him out, this man would never stop using it.
“I’ll take you to Trista. You can bother her. I’ve got work to get done.”
“Funless!” he cried. “You are simply funless.”
“I beg to differ,” she said as she began to walk toward the library. “It seems you are having great fun at my expense.”
“Ha ha! That is the best kind of fun to be had.”
Aida rolled her eyes at him and kept walking. She could hear his footsteps behind her. Hopefully Trista would take him off her hands. She wondered what he did for MODA, but he was in such a mood that she didn’t think she’d get a straight answer if she asked.
“You, you, I like you just the tiniest bit,” he rambled on. “Your hair is all wrong and you have a terrible sense of taste in shoes, but that sarcasm... Someone taught you well.”
“I’ve met my share of buffoons.”
“Touché.”
Trista looked up when Aida led Mo into the room.
“It’s you,” she said, her voice full of defeat. Aida was surprised to hear the emotion.
“Trista darling, you’ve missed me.”
