He scratched at his bare elbow, his polo shirt a little sticky with perspiration. These hot New Orleans summers, he was used to them but it didn't make sweating from the memory of last night any easier. Ainsley cleared his throat, shrugged, turned his mouth down in sheepish disregard, as if he didn't have any news.

Nope, nothing to see here. No big, earth-shattering developments in his maturation, or anything like that. "I uh... nothin' special. Hey, how 'bout we get some ice cream? Saw one of them carts down on the main path."