The Way Back
After dinner at Roy's, Lindsey drove me home. It seemed to have went OK enough. I couldn't help but give lawyer like answers at times; it's just become second nature to me at this point. I don't usually have to talk much about myself, or I can usually get out of it when someone does ask me something about my past. Lindsey knows a lot about it, but he knows it because he read my file. I did the same to him, so I wasn't exactly shocked. Of course, reading someone's file and being told about their lives by them are two very different things.
When Lindsey pulled into the driveway of my new house, which he helped me find, I looked over and smiled a little at him. "Well, that was fun. Thanks for dinner." Well, I guess that you'd call it more interesting, but whatever.
((Open to Lindsey))
When Lindsey pulled into the driveway of my new house, which he helped me find, I looked over and smiled a little at him. "Well, that was fun. Thanks for dinner." Well, I guess that you'd call it more interesting, but whatever.
((Open to Lindsey))