He agrees quickly and reassures me it's crystal clear. Hmm, something about all this reminds me of how boys game their way from one level to the next one.
Normally, the pursuit would thrill me. But this isn't your normal chase. For me, it's a distraction. For Kentucky, it was going to be a therapy session. Now he was entering the Lair of the Ruthless, fangs would be bared (mine) and feathers ruffled (his) or gasp, even plucked. I hoped for his sake, he could take it. He bursts into the flat and all I can sadly think of is how I can't take that aggression seriously. He beelines to the couch where I sat flipping through a glossy magazine listlessly. "Oh. You're here," I observe rather indifferently.