She smiled a little. “That’s me.” How strange to be noticed when she was usually the one scouting others. Rhiannon’s hand strayed to the beer. The layer of condensation made the glass skate as she rotated it on the tabletop. “What if I told you I can’t really draw and it’s just a social crutch?” She was amused by the idea of spending hours making hundreds of stick figures in a portfolio.

The waitress brought a plate of fries to the table. “Thanks.” Rhiannon slipped a ketchup bottle from the caddy and shook it. A small drop of tomato sauce dotted her wrist as the condiment puddle on the plate. “Help yourself.”