“Connie,” he sighed, though he didn’t protest to the choice. There were worse names to have. (He said so himself.)
“Mind she doesn’t turn out too much like you,” Howell added, entirely deadpan, but the pat he gave her on her shoulder as he turned back for the creche door might almost pass for fond.
“And I’ll come to find your body if you’re not back by seven sharp, alright?”
“Mind she doesn’t turn out too much like you,” Howell added, entirely deadpan, but the pat he gave her on her shoulder as he turned back for the creche door might almost pass for fond.
“And I’ll come to find your body if you’re not back by seven sharp, alright?”
