[ Have teenage girl company, Kovacs. It's exactly what your day needs. Eleven plops down opposite him, and brings with her a plate stacked way too high with a swaying tower of waffles, much too generously decorated with whipped cream and a mountain of sprinkles.
Dark brown eyes meet Kovacs' over the stack of waffles with a small shake of her head. No other seats - you're supposed to eat together at the table. Hopper always says so.
Instead: ]
Your food looks sad.
[ She speaks a little more slowly than you'd expect, enunciating with a little more care, as if she has to place the words on her tongue with more effort than you'd expect in a child of roughly 14 years. ]
II
Dark brown eyes meet Kovacs' over the stack of waffles with a small shake of her head. No other seats - you're supposed to eat together at the table. Hopper always says so.
Instead: ]
Your food looks sad.
[ She speaks a little more slowly than you'd expect, enunciating with a little more care, as if she has to place the words on her tongue with more effort than you'd expect in a child of roughly 14 years. ]