[ Krouse is content enough to chalk Fabian's dance-spiration up to the catch-all category of 'magic'. Maybe Riz has a podcast that gets into more detail, even if just on a pop metaphysics level.

He's not dwelling on it right now, even if he'd probably be better off. ]

Yeah.

[ He takes a long sip of his coffee, eyelashes shaded down. This isn't as bad as it could be. Riz is his age, so he doesn't have to worry as much about a hit to his reputation from sounding like a homesick kid. ]

My dad wasn't ever really in the picture. Nothing traumatic. He just opted out. [ He shrugs in turn, brushing past the long-resolved trivia of his paternity. ] So it was her and me most of the time.

She's a good mom. I know everyone kind of has to say that about their moms, but she really is. And I wasn't exactly an easy kid to deal with. Born smartass. Which was slightly her fault, since I get it from her.

[ Like his strong nose and sharp, dark eyes, and how he tilts his head when he's annoyed, and his intolerance of bullshit. Fondness hovers at the corners of his wistful smile. ]

I hadn't seen her in a while before I got here. Not her fault. The commute wasn't feasible. But you're right. It's not the same.