Judge and Clio were locked in the most intense staring contest of the century—or at least it would have been, if Clio weren't eating popcorn.
No, not eating—devouring it like she was watching the most fascinating drama unfold. The real drama? She was supposed to explain something crucial, and instead, here she was munching away, while Judge's patience was swinging loosely by a thread thinner than Clio's obvious attention span.
Should I call it chick pop? he wondered, mid-glare. Popcorn sounds so... generic. Or maybe generic was the one for her.
Judge sighed and looked away, breaking the so-called contest. In Clio's mind, that was an immediate, devastating loss for Judge. She mentally raised a victory banner—complete with fanfare—while stuffing another handful of popcorn into her mouth.
