They were at Damian's apartment.
The fight hadn't ended at the bookshop — it had paused, which was different. The kind of pause that happened when two people ran out of the immediate language for something that needed more time.
They'd closed the shop together. Walked to Damian's apartment. Made dinner — or Damian had made dinner while Kendrick sat at the table and went through Daniel's email about the board conditions and the six-month strategy, which was work but was also, Damian understood, a way of doing something useful with hands that didn't know what else to do.
They'd eaten.
Mostly in silence. Not the comfortable kind. The kind where both people were aware of the silence and neither was ready to break it yet.
Damian was washing the dishes.
Kendrick was still at the table.
And then Kendrick's phone rang.
Damian heard the ringtone. Heard the pause. Heard Kendrick say, with a specific flatness: "Victor."
Damian turned around.
Kendrick looked at the phone.
