Jewel was playing with some toys her parents had brought for her, piling plastic scoops of ice cream on top of one another and bringing them around for the adults.

“Yum yum,” Mary said, pretending to take a bite of the strawberry ice cream. Jewel smiled and nodded and prepared some for her mother, and then for Via.

She brought a pair of chocolate scoops over for John to try, where he sat on the floor, his legs stretched out and his drink in his hand.

She held out the ice cream to John, who leaned forward and pretended to take a bite. A moment passed before he screwed his face up into a look of scowling disgust. “That is the worst ice cream I’ve ever had in my life,” he informed Jewel. He stuck his tongue out. “Yuck.”

At first quite shocked, the little girl glanced back at her mother, who was chuckling. Jewel turned around and started giggling at John’s disgusted face.

“Bring me a different flavor,” John demanded.

“Say pease.”

“Please bring me a different flavor at once.” John knocked a fist firmly against the floor beside him, making Jewel jump and laugh a little hysterically.

She ran back to her pile of ice creams and came back with a strawberry and a vanilla. Again, John pretended to sample them, his face smoothing into almost a smile before he screwed it up in disgust once more. “Blech. That is terrible! Just awful! Who makes this ice cream?!”

By now Jewel was fully belly laughing, which made everyone who was watching the exchange laugh as well.

She came back with pistachio in a bowl with a spoon. He sampled the ice cream, gave her a full smile and then let his face dissolve into horror and disgust. “That’s the worst one yet! I want a refund! I demand to speak to the manager!”

Jewel was beside herself with giggles.

“You’re catching flies,” Fin muttered to Mary.

“What’s that?” Mary tore her attention from John and Jewel and looked down at her friend who was peering, almost smugly, up at Mary.

“I said, you’re catching flies in your wide-open mouth while you stare at John.”

Mary pursed her lips. “I was watching, not staring.”

“Sure.” Fin tucked her smile into her drink.

Mary glanced back at John. His black hair, white shirt, black pants, black socks. Everything black and white. Except for the man himself, who was turning out to be quite a complicated pattern of color.

She wrinkled her nose and looked down at Fin again. “So, maybe I was staring,” she admitted.

Fin laughed. “You catching feelings for him?”

“No,” Mary said resolutely, shaking her head. Then she thought of his aftershave. How happy she’d been to unexpectedly see him in the bar the other night. “Maybe.”

Fin laughed again. “He’s cute. In an unexpected way. Not your usual style.”