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“I think they just wanna roast a pig in the ground or whatever.”

“Yeah?” my taking of the object is followed by a crooked grin. “And who the fuck do they think is gonna dig the hole?”

“Kinda sounds like a big boss job.”

I shake my head in amusement and scribble my name on the first document.

Maybe that’s when I’ll start to introduce Emmerz to the club?

Only a couple members work here – not including Rugrats – but it would be something.

Something that would be open.

Safe.

And an easy environment for her to navigate.

Easi-er.

Plus…you know.

Her in a fucking swimsuit.

Assuming she owns one.

Which I doubt.

Especially based on what I remember about our first interaction.

I could bring her one from here.

That sounds like something an Old Man should do.

Fuckme, how come she ain’t the only one unsure how all this couple shit needs to play out?

Guess I could ask Lady.

But do I really want Lady up in my shit?

The sound of a new alert dings on my phone, momentarily pulling my attention away from whatever document I’d manage to mindlessly get to.

Concern that it could be Emmerz – and not wanting to fuck that up again – is what pushes me to do a brief check that reveals a new email.

From her.

Confusion convinces my fingers into clicking it open for immediate clarification yet only leads to more.

Dear Student,

Classes that I teach are cancelled forever.

The Dean will issue you a refund immediately.

Miss Owens

Sketch.

Everything about it.