"Laos. Vientiane."
"We're not jungle monkeys," said the Laotian. Nawin smiled warmly. Of course they were but how pleasant that they were endeavoring to be more.
"Forty, are you? So young," continued the Laotian. "And if we had known we would have made you a cake. We would have, you know?"
"Would you have? And how would you have made one in a train?"
"I don't know. There were stops. I could have scraped together something. Kemiga and I used to make mud pies when we did the baby thing together."
"Your sister's name?"
"Yes. You liked her, didn't you?"
"She's pretty. Do you do the baby thing with her now?"
"The baby thing?" he scoffed, turned red in embarassment, and became reticent with face looking downward as if the breeding dogs that they had seen in passing were still before them.
"Playing around upon occasion, sure, but no baby things. We've outgrown that. Anyhow we better hurry. Its getting late."