Pool_1

It was getting late. There was little to say that hadn't been said many times over already. It was dark now and just getting home ought to have been the only thought. But this was an odd last bit, nobody gets hurt. In there, somehow, was a taint, just the sound of it, nobody getting hurt. You don't say that about tying your shoe laces, or picking out birthday cards, or even about things that could hurt, like chin-ups. Marcus wasn't sure if his mother's voice was whispering in his ear about honesty... but... it was, after all, just ice cream. if.. they like it? Billy saw the distant look in his trainee's eyes, now puled narrow in contemplation, "Lamenting the fall of Zion, are you Baruch?" Marcus, recalling Father Joe, surprised him with, "Priests hurl their keys to the sanctuary back at the heavens, crying out to the Lord, 'Guard your own house. We are false stewards.'" Billy blinked hard. Pulled his mouth flat to the kid’s face, "You smell lemons? I smell lemons."