#5 The Table (Part III)
“I’m offering you breakfast. Would you like some?”
“Yes, please.” We ate bagels slathered with cream cheese and jam. Thunder didn’t like strawberry jam, preferred peach, and stripped off his shirt halfway through to show me his muscles, and explain what exercises he used to develop each set. He was bragging, chatting along, and full of energy.
I was washed out, talking slower and less.
“Time for bed.” Thunder said.
“I’m supposed to go to a hotel. I have a voucher for it.”
“We can do that later. I’m going to call the appraiser. Thorn should be back before lunch. I’ll wake you up when he gets in. Trust me, I’m safe.”
“Said the wolf to red-ridding hood.” I muttered. This quip came more natural. It did not startle me this time.
Thunder, though, Thunder threw his head back in laughter. Not for the first time that morning I noted how sharp his teeth looked. The thought follows me down into sleep, and is the first thing I think of when Thunder wakes me hours later. “Thorn can’t get away for a few more hours. Want to go work out?” He ends the sentence with a hopeful puppy-dog look. Then he ruins the image by running his tongue over his top teeth. His very sharp top teeth.