“I guess.” He shrugged. Kael answered with a word or two now and then, but mostly it was my voice that filled the lobby. We were in a public area—not exactly a private therapy room—but he was still playing the strong, silent type.
“Do you want a receipt?” I read the prompt from the credit card machine.
“Of course.” He held out his hand.
“Of course?Such certainty over a credit card receipt?” I teased him. I was beginning to love doing that. He reacted differently nearly every time. It was fascinating.
“Responsible,” he said. He almost smiled as he tucked the receipt into his wallet. It was leather, light brown, and obviously well used.
“Sure,” I said, and snorted. “Whatever you say.”
“Better hope you don’t get audited.” No smile this time, but he did give me a raised eyebrow.
Mali was watching everything closely now. When Kael came out into the lobby after his session, she had been busy nearby, humming to herself while wiping the fingerprints from the glass door. Now she’d given up even the pretense of cleaning. I had forgotten she was even here, honestly.
“See you tonight?” I asked, as he approached the door.
“Yeah. For sure.”
He waved to me and said a polite goodbye to Mali, calling her ma’am and all. The door closed and she turned her attention to me.
“Mhm?”
“Mhmwhat?” I closed the cash register and stuck the tip in my pocket.
Her eyes fell on the door again and a Cheshire-cat grin spread across her face. “Oh, nothing.”
“Stop gossiping,” I told her, as I disappeared down the hallway.
Her voice followed me. “You’re not painting my walls!”
I rolled my eyes and went back into my room.