Nash let her stew for exactly three seconds. Then he crossed his arms behind his head, leaned back against the couch, and looked at her with the most judgmental of his expressions.
"Why are you even asking me that?"
"Huh?"
"Just like that. You. A girl from a good family, who reads studies on endurance, who speaks four languages, who makes colored diagrams. What gets into her to ask that to a boy at two in the morning?"
"I... it's... of the..." She stammered three syllables that didn't form any word in the only language Nash understood. "It's scientific curiosity!"
"Scientific."
"Yes!"
"A girl from a good family doesn't think about those things, Chloé. She thinks about Alexander. About her wedding in the spring. About Biscuit."
"Biscuit has nothing to do with this!"
