London Looks Better on Me — The London Flight Question

What are you doing here? Picking you up. I don't need a ride. He stepped in front of me and looked down at me. Sarah, can you please talk to me like a normal person? I am. He frowned and raised his hand to touch my head, just like he had for the past eight years. Whenever he used to ruffle my my hair. I stepped back. His hand froze in midair. You really are mad. He lowered it.

I told you I'd talk to the manager again. The deal's gone. It's gone. I cut him off. Does that really mean you have to quit? Yes. He took a deep breath and switched to that gentle voice he always used on me. Sarah. Don't call me Sarah like that. He stopped. In eight years, I had never interrupted him like this. He was used to my easygoing temper, used to me putting

Sitting up with everything. Used to be nodding no matter what he said. Fine. He took a step back. Let's go somewhere and sit down. We'll talk.

There's nothing to talk about. You're flying to London tomorrow. Alone. Who do you even know there? You don't know your way around. I will.

Sophie's been crying all day. She thinks you're leaving because of her. Oh. So? What do you mean, so? Now you won't even accept her apology? I looked at him.

Luke, I asked calmly. Have you ever thought about something?