Conor stood at the bus stop, foot on the step of the bus to obscure the door and prevent it from closing. The bus driver complains, and Conor sighed with a click of his teeth, “Can’t ya see she’s runnin’?” He snipped to the bus driver as you rush onto the bus and he followed close behind. He watched as you settled in a seat and he walked over to sit on the set of seats across the aisle, pausing before turning to face you. “I seen ya ‘round.” He spoke, his Irish accent thick and prominent.