#Chapter66
/"Birdie?/" Ronan asked sweetly, his legs swinging to a free flowing beat beneath the truck stop booth they'd found themselves slumming it in. /"Biiirrrdieeeee?/"
The sky had gone to sleep like a good sky, and the moon was its nightlight until the sun came back out to play, but it was still very dark and lottsa lights lit up the outside, bathing the dingy lot in a bright fluorescent glow. The cold was nasty. It had his teeth going 'clunk clunk clunk,' and despite his birdie wrapping his jacket around his shoulders, Ronan was still cold. There was an upside to the cold though-- Jack Frost had visited, and a thick layer of steam had been left behind, glazing the diner's windows, becoming an open canvas for him to draw smiley faces with his finger.
