Viona turned around to look where I was staring.
“Huh,” she said, “I think that is. I wonder what he’s doing here.”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “He’s acting rather sketchy, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just watch him.”
We watched as Scott continued to stare at us, failing to be surreptitious and remain hidden behind his newspaper. (Someone really should have told him that print media went the way of the VHS tape many years ago.)
We were rather amused by the display but also uncertain as to its purpose. It’s not as though Scott was unwelcomed in the bar or that we would have objected to him coming over and talking to us.
Why all the secrecy? Did this have something to do with the alliance that he and I had come to the night be
