"We used to spend a lot of time on the water," I said. "Group of us. There was this dock that technically belonged to someone's uncle, which meant it belonged to all of us by—"
I stopped. I didn't want to finish the thought.
I reached for my water glass and took a drink.
"What about you? Do you miss Minnesota?"
Pratt looked at me for a beat. "Have you seenFargo?"
He delivered the line in such a perfect deadpan I laughed. "Yeah, okay. That's fair."
"I don't miss it being colder," he said.
"Good to know."
I went back to my food. Pratt picked up the slack.
"Guy got traded from St. Louis when we were there," Pratt said. "They said he thought he was settled. He bought a house there. It didn't matter."
I looked up.
His expression was the same as it always was—level, giving nothing away.
"Guess the league's brutal like that," I said.
"Mm."
He picked his fork back up.
I kept eating.
Our server reappeared and refilled my water without asking. Outside, a cab went by.
When we finished, Pratt and I each slapped twenties on the table. We walked back.
When we got back to our doors, it was time to wind everything down. "Thanks for the company," I said.
Pratt looked at me. I had my keys in my hand.
"Sully, the records," he said. "When they come."
I fidgeted.
"When they get here, you don't have to do anything with them."
"Okay," I said.
He reached out for me and pulled me into a hug. We kissed.
"Goodnight, Pratt."
"Goodnight."
He let go and turned toward his door. I watched him go inside.
