NOLA
I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “Dad, please. Let it go. The shirt is a casualty of war. We are mourning the loss of the shirt. It’s a very somber occasion.”
“It didn't look very somber,” Lawrence teased. “It looked like a recruitment poster for the Sentinel program. I expect to see a significant increase in training applications tomorrow morning if anyone else saw him walking around like that.”
“Nobody saw him!” I insisted, though I knew perfectly well that at least half the pack had seen him on the lawn. “And even if they did, he’s a professional. He’s very serious. He doesn't even know he has muscles. He thinks he’s just made of duty and scowling.”
“Oh, he knows,” Lawrence said, leaning forward and lowering his voice as if we were sharing a great secret. “He’s been doin
