From O8:
"You're laughing?" Her eyes hooded a bit, the soft flesh louvering down over her flecked-hazel eyes, and he realized - Jewish. Russian. The 40's. This probably wasn't a happy tale.
Danny took a closer look. Even hooded, her eyes caught and reflected the lights above and people walking past. Her steel-gray hair had a single, luxurious sweep of white that hung with her bangs over her eye. Her track suit, fitted smartly to her trim, lady's frame, was a soft but electrifying blue.
"I'm laughing," he admitted, keeping his face very serious but hoping his eyes would smile. He could pester her a bit, he thought. She won't leave me alone, let's see how she does when the tables turn. "But just a bit."
"Well." With great exaggeration, she tossed her napkin onto the table. "I suppose you might as well should."
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