Lucy shoveled the rest of her mushrooms into her mouth. Despite being the person with the least amount of food on her plate, she was still the slowest one to eat. She blamed her ovaries, or whatever . . The whole menstruation process. But truth be told, she was a rather slow eater. Parker may have commented on it once or twice while they were dating. Or maybe he didn't ever notice. It made a better story if he had, a reason to distance herself from him. She didn't like being picked on for being the slowest eater. . 

She was by far a better guitarist than eater. And for some reason, the comment of her being a slow eater usually implied in her mind that she was just a slow person. Maybe she was, maybe she wasn't. But by fuckers, she wasn't going to believe that she was a slow person. Besides, slow people couldn't possibly play the guitar as gorgeously, thunderously as she could. . Or well, probably, in any case or at least, on average. .

Lucy took in a deep breath after gulping her water down. Cramps. "God, I need a cigarette," she stated flatly, getting up from the table, secretly insulted by Parker's 'may having called her a slow eater at some point in time.' God, she was feeling bitchy bringing up nonexistent arguments into play like lying to herself about Parker was the only way we could relentlessly keep up with her feelings. Fake it 'til you make it.

Lucy walked outside, "Cigarette time," she told Matt, as if her coming outside needed some excuse. Maybe it did. she dug out a cigarettes for the pack in her front pocket. She lit it, excited from the after dinner smoke effect. It wasn't as good as she had expected. But then again, that was the day -- except for the t-shirt design. That was wicked awesome.

"That t-shirt design, though," she spoke, again to Matt, as if he could read her mind. Maybe her body language was just more talkative today. Menstruation had that side-effect on her. Whether or not Matt noticed or not, Lucy was expecting him to catch her drift.