Page 234 of End Game

The response comes immediately.

AUSTIN FUCKING FLETCHER

Didn't work

My stomach does something deeply embarrassing.

Dex

tragic honestly

AUSTIN FUCKING FLETCHER

You busy?

I look around the kitchen.

Pizza box.

Coffee I forgot to drink.

One sock on the floor that might be mine but statistically could belong to anyone in this house.

Dex

extremely

gourmet breakfast time

AUSTIN FUCKING FLETCHER

Cold pizza?

I sit up straighter.

Dex

how the fuck

My phone rings.

I make a sound I would mock another adult man for making and nearly launch it across the counter.

The screen still says AUSTIN FUCKING FLETCHER.

“Okay,” I whisper to absolutely nobody. “We're being normal.”

I answer. “Sir, I'm going to need you to explain your surveillance infrastructure.”

Austin laughs.

Exactly the same laugh I remember from backstage. Easy. A little rough around the edges.

“Morning, Dex.”

“Debatable.”

“You work last night?”