"What is a 'cheerio'?" she asked,
"I'll take that as a compliment. Has she finished school yet?"
Mason scowled as he chastised her,
"Really? Now you're scolding me?" she said with a huff and turned her back to him.
"What are you? My dad?"
It really was a lovely view. But she wasn't about to engage in pleasant conversation with him after he just treated her like a bad child.
But isn't that exactly what I am though?
Mason raised an eyebrow and stared in shock at the sketch-pad,
"You draw?"
Mason couldn't picture Colt sitting over a piece of paper, pencil in hand. He seemed more the sort to engage in Quiddith or football. Not something as divine as art.
This guy just seemed to get weirder and weirder every time she hung out with him.
"Well are you any good?"