lizbot
One of the things April had said about Tuesday was an odd observation that she was good at "compartmentalizing" things, and up to this moment he hadn't realized how relieved he'd been to hear that. It's not something he's good at even if he tries very hard, but in this moment he feels a wretched prideful pleasure at the idea that America can't compartmentalize him out.
"I know I b***h about it," he says, subdued, "but I kinda like finding your ********' hair pins everywhere. Even if I'm still not sure how they ended up in my ********' shoes." A pause, the loaded kind where he's organizing his thoughts, but instead he blurts: "How much later?"