‘Huh,’ She blinked up at the tv set at the bar, toothpick hanging off her bottom lip, sans olive. She would have been more surprised at the accusations if she hadn't been lost in that same train of thought.
‘Huh, what?’ Her barstool mate leaned over and nudged her with his suit clad elbow. Glancing over, her baby blues meet his piercing green eyes with brows raised in amusement.
‘You once asked me ‘why serial killers?’, well,’ She took the toothpick from her mouth and pointed it over at the tv to the striking picture of a middle aged, seemingly harmless, gentleman.
‘Donnely?’
‘Mmhm.’ She stuck the toothpick back and folded her arms on the counter top, looking back up at the image. ‘I used to call him dad.’
‘Wait, what?’ She ignored the sound of alarm in his voice and only chuckled.
‘You heard correctly.’
‘Dad?’ He swiveled in his chair and glared at her until she looked over at him.
‘Yes, dad.’ She rolled her wrist around the air. ‘Daddy, father, papa.’
‘The Rainbow Killer is your father and you're laughing about it?’
‘I feel like I had a part to play in him falling off the rocker.’ She examined her nails, pausing in her speech long enough to cause notable irritation in her friend.
‘Go on.’
‘Lisa Frank stickers.’ She cocked her head and smiled up at him. ‘So many Lisa Frank stickers. On binders, books, and walls.’
‘You're going to be the death of me.’ He ran a hand down his face in feigned irritation.
‘I once covered his Porcha in the stickers, that's probably what did him in.’
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