““Janco leaned on the threshold of my door with his face creased in annoyance. “Did she just—” “Yes.” “But I don’t—” “Yes. You do. We both stink.” “Well, I’m not—” “Yes. You are.” He huffed. “You won’t let—” “No. No complaining. Let’s go.” I grabbed a clean shirt and pants from my saddlebags. “Well, she could have handled it better,” he grumped. “No. She couldn’t.” He settled into a sulky silence as we visited the bathhouse.””
