A slightly incredulous smile gave way to a big grin, clearly for someone behind me.
A whip-thin boy with dark hair, a labret piercing and a black t-shirt commemorating some death/thrash/goth/industrial band I've never heard of walked up to our table.
"Joey C!" said The Spelling Bee Champ. They indulged in that urban handshake ritual that may never end: the clasp, the twist, the link, the pound... what if someone forgot and added an angel wing?
Introductions were made and Joey C and The Champ talked music for a moment. Then Joey C excused himself to another flurry of hand spasms.
I looked at The Champ, one eyebrow cocked.
AntiM: Look at you! You say you don't know street, but then you're all with the urban handshake.
The Spelling Bee Champ: That's how I roll.
AM: It's pretty hot.
SBC: Not as hot as knitting.