Max’s tone is stern, his face set. Only the slight deepening of the creases around his eyes betrays his intention. This is a game he plays, a game that Latisha enjoys very much. He points to a spot on the floor in front of him. “Now.”
She carries on buffing her nails, giving every outward appearance of indifference. “Busy” she throws over her shoulder, locking down the grin of anticipation which twitches at the corner of her purple-painted lips.