The guards had cleared the table with the same quiet efficiency they'd produced it.
Vikram had excused himself to a call — not work, his mother, the specific call he apparently received at 8pm regardless of circumstances and had never successfully redirected.
Meera was watching the Ferris wheel with the specific, watching-something-you-can't-do expression.
Priya's head was beginning to hurt.
Or rather: Priya's head was performing the beginning of a hurt with the specific, slight inaccuracy of a performance that was well-constructed but was not the real thing.
She put her fingers to her temple.
Meera noticed immediately.
"'Are you okay?'"
"'I'm fine,'" Priya said. "'I think I — the spinning, earlier—'"
"'Oh god, I'm sorry—'"
"'No, it's — I get motion sensitive sometimes,'" Priya said. She looked at Raven. The specific look: 'this is the beat.'
He was not looking at her.
He was looking at the Ferris wheel.
