“How does that work?”
“Pot Noodles?”
“No, buying things. You can work for extra money, right? Did you have a job?”
Luis picked up a fork. “That’s a lot of questions.”
“Sorry. You don’t have to answer.”
“It’s okay. They warn you before you come out that random people will ask weird questions. I don’t mind.”
Random people?Paolo couldn’t imagine anyone approaching Luis in the street.Or does he mean me?Either way, the phrase sat awkwardly in the place Luis had carved out for himself in Paolo’s tired mind.Food. I need food. Maybe then I’ll stop being a weirdo.He gestured for Luis to start eating and dug into his own plateful, clearing half of it before he looked up again.
Luis’s plate was empty.Shit. Did I not give him enough?Or maybe that was how they ate in prison, quick-sharp, before someone else took it. Or maybe—
Fuck’s sake. Stop ruminating over shit you know nothing about.
Paolo finished his breakfast and got up to fetch tea and coffee. When he got back, Luis was leaning back in his chair, legs stretched out, head tipped back. His eyes were closed. Paolo placed two steaming mugs on the table and nudged his foot. “Tea’s up.”
Luis roused himself. “Thanks. Didn’t hear you coming.”
“That happen often?”
“What? That you sneak up on me? It’s only been two days, mate.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Luis sipped his tea and shot Paolo a quizzical glance over his mug. The rational human fighting for survival in Paolo screamed at him to mind his own business, but the nosy old woman in him couldn’t stop. “You don’t hear me a lot. Probably not a bad thing most of the time when I’m shouting about burnt toast and the football, but I’m wondering if there’s something I need to know.”
“Like what?”
“Like, if you have an issue I should be helping you more with. Or if it’s something that puts you at risk in a busy kitchen. Like, what if the gas alarm went off and you didn’t hear it?”
“I’d smell it.”
“What about the fire alarm?”
“I’d smell the fire too.”
“You’re missing the point.”
“I’m really not.” Luis set his mug down. “You’re asking me stuff that doesn’t give you the answer you want.”
There was no challenge in Luis’s tone, only truth. Paolo leaned forwards, seeking more. “I think you’re struggling to hear out of your left ear. Am I right?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re smart enough to figure it out, I guess.”
“That’s not what I—”
“I know.” Another of Luis’s ghost-like smiles warmed his face. “I’m being a dick, sorry.”
“Don’t be. I don’t mind.”
“You didn’t give me that impression when I first got here.”
