The phone rang four times before he picked up, and when he did he didn't say anything.
"Well?" I say on the other end.
"Yes?" a pause, "No?"
I swipe a finger down the dirty glass of the booth before I respond, "It depends on Timrood."
I can hear the pseudo flutter on his end, he's getting another call. "Where you think he's leaning?" I ask before he gets a chance to tell me to hold on.
"I don't know enough to comment. This is your cat, brother," he says in a lower voice.
"I know who the hell he is," I say, gripping the phone harder.
"Sorry, man, I'd have to read all of them again to get my bearings," of course he would say that.
"Why didn't you send them to Doc?" I demand.
"He's not my problem. He chose this," he said each word like they were individually wrapped.
I smile against the receiver, "That's funny. Ferret said the same thing," I say and hang up. He should get the picture now.
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