Episode Seventy-Two: Learning To FlyThe loud bang made her jump out of her skin. She shielded her face with her arm, never knowing when one of Bowieís jam jar recreations of the Eiffel Tower might crash down.
"Merry late Christmas," Sebastian greeted her from somewhere behind the tall stack of books that he plopped on the counter. "Iím damn impressive, arenít I?"
Ava couldnít fight off a big amused smile. "Are you pretending to read again?"
"Nope," he replied digging inside his coat pocket pulling out some crumpled papers and flattening them in front of her. "Itís your turn to do the pretending, now if you canít find your own version of Taro, Iíve always found that rephrasing the question in answer form works pretty well in a pinch," he held up a finger to her lips. "Before you go berserk on me, these are a gift. I would pay for the class too but I know from firsthand experience how stubborn and pig-headed you can be about money, was Russian lit a bad choice?"
Avalon pushed him out of her mind to deal with the next customer, Sarette Jordan. "Happy holidays to you both," the wealthy woman said, opening her checkbook.
"Is that it then? Youíre not going to say anything?" Bas questioned, drumming on the cover of Anna Karenina. "Itís one class; my mother could add the tuition to your debt,"
"What do you want me to say? Should I get down on my knees and thank you," Ava answered bitterly nearly tossing Saretteís items across the scanner.
"That might be nice," he countered, "I thought this kind of thing meant a lot to you,"
She stood with her hands at the back of her hips waiting for Mrs. Jordanís receipt to finish printing. "Thank you Sebastian, it was surprisingly thoughtful, but itís a frivolous waste, one course isnít going to get me anywhere except more time away from my mom,"
"I think that youíre afraid you wonít live up to your own billing," Bas threw back at her. "I bet deep down youíre every bit as dumb as I am, and I know how you love to prove me wrong."