“You’re very good,” she said, tilting her head. “The scruffy stubble is a nice touch. But your shoes are brand new Italian leather. Ornithologists don’t wear shoes that cost more than my car.”
“I can’t stay,” he whispered. “I’m the Romantic Killer.” Romantic Killer
Luna just stared at him. Then she laughed. It was a sound like wind chimes falling down stairs. “You’re very good,” she said, tilting her head