Zoë didn’t look at him.
“My daddy is Young Faron. Mean anything to you?”
“Not a thing.” Her fingers gripped the bar. “Best you run along, little Young Faron,” she said softly. If the green kid had any sense, which she knew he did not, he would have heard the warning.
“Hey!” He leaned closer, utterly assured of his status as local heartthrob. “Just trying to make your acquaintance, lambytoes.”
-- Somewhere Down the Crazy River (2/10) by CharlieBZ