"You made it pretty clear you didn't want my type moving into the neighborhood," she says, but doesn't look exceptionally bothered by it.
"There's a little disdain. And socio-economic status always matters, Parker. You may speak the same language and get each other, but the world works differently for the people who were raised expecting it to go their way and the people who learned they had to make it go their way."
She absently brushes some sand off her thigh and doesn't shrug at him, exactly, but the set of her shoulders seems to imply it.
"Being nice isn't one of the skills I keep in my repertoire. You know why?" she asks, stepping forward and holding out the little tool from the kit that had the extendable blade in it, ostensible, she figured, for cutting gauze or thread. She'd removed it, idly, almost without thinking. She was giving it back.
"Because life doesn't give a damn about kindness. Thanks again."
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"There's a little disdain. And socio-economic status always matters, Parker. You may speak the same language and get each other, but the world works differently for the people who were raised expecting it to go their way and the people who learned they had to make it go their way."
She absently brushes some sand off her thigh and doesn't shrug at him, exactly, but the set of her shoulders seems to imply it.
"Being nice isn't one of the skills I keep in my repertoire. You know why?" she asks, stepping forward and holding out the little tool from the kit that had the extendable blade in it, ostensible, she figured, for cutting gauze or thread. She'd removed it, idly, almost without thinking. She was giving it back.
"Because life doesn't give a damn about kindness. Thanks again."