"Really? And what sort of wedding is he having?"
"Dave" is momentarily thrown by the "Really?", does she know that he's lying. Or maybe it's the muddy green cat eyes that pincer him without blinking that are churning his insides.
He takes in her face properly, she's a little chunky, a short neck. Yet her eyes are mesmerising, and her cheekbones seem to want to take over her whole face. He wants to brush her curls off them.
Angela starts to turn red, her mouth snapping into a line as her eyes sneak down "Don't you know what the wedding's like?" she murmurs through her now rigid mouth. He smiles "I know it's a huge wedding, him and his wife work in real estate, they've been saving for years, for their special day, I'm so happy for them, naturally. And you, where are you going?".
And the man pretending to be Dave smiles again, as Angela looks at him and tries to work if he's really as happy as his words are telling her.
"How sweet" she murmurs. She looks out the window as she talks to him again "I'm going to a funeral, my father's, he died last week".
For a moment he tries to remember what it's like to care, to have a family with weddings, funerals, but it's gone. Something he shook off years ago, that he didn't glance back at not even once.
"I'm sorry", and he almost means it. Tries to smile with sympathy but he's aware that Angela is looking at his eyes, at their blackness that doesn't move.
"Here", she bends over into her handbag and "Dave" can see the auburn hairs glinting at the base of her neck, and he thinks of what it would be like to touch them, to see if his hands could fit around her short stubby throat.