[Kim often reminds herself she doesn’t need anyone’s approval for her choices. Right now, she feels like she wants it anyway. It’s a balm on a thought that digs into her as soon as she sees that smile: Atticus would condemn me. Anyone would.
She turns her attention to the barista, unruffled, in polite but slow Japanese:]
Large coffee, black.
[Kim Wexler has minimal concept of different roasts; she just drinks what’s available, even if it’s from a vending machine.]
no subject
She turns her attention to the barista, unruffled, in polite but slow Japanese:]
Large coffee, black.
[Kim Wexler has minimal concept of different roasts; she just drinks what’s available, even if it’s from a vending machine.]