He leaned in, hands still on my wrists. His face had closed down. He looked strangely suspicious, and I realized that it was my expression in his eyes, more than his, as if I'd taught him that look, and this caution. She put her hands over her face and started to cry, not quietly either.
I think he'd expected an argument. It was Gregory, in his growling voice, who said, I guess it's none of my business, but should Richard really be in front of the house where cars could see him? He is covered in blood. Then you've got to decide whether you like your space or him more. It may come to that, and you do not wish your friend to remember this conversation.
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