Atticus laughed under his breath, one hand ruffling Luke’s fur as the retriever leaned happily against his leg. The question pulled a sideways glance toward Vince, amusement flickering across his face.
“I’m pretty sure Luke’s just our baby,” he said, giving the dog an affectionate pat on the chest. “But Astrid might have more to say about that, seeing as he actually lives in her crib.” Luke’s tail thumped at the sound of his name, tongue lolling, perfectly unaware that he’d just been promoted to baby status.
As Vince agreed to his plan, Atti nodded once, the casual grin settling back onto his face. “Perfect. I’ll get the money to you once my guy flips the truck. Could we exchange contact info? Makes it easier to meet up when it’s ready. Cash, clean, no questions asked.” His tone was smooth but practical; he’d done this kind of exchange a dozen times before, and his easy confidence said as much.
Atticus turned his head, eyes narrowing just enough to show alertness without surrendering calm. The figure (Todd) that emerged looked like he’d crawled straight out of a nightmare wearing someone else’s idea of couture. The blades, the grin, the scent of rust and ozone... definitely not someone you’d mistake for a partygoer.
Still, Atti just smirked, half-turning toward him with one hand tucked lazily in his pocket. “My hair’s just fine, but I appreciate the offer,” he said evenly, gaze never leaving the barber’s eerie red eyes. “Let me have a treat.”
“I’m pretty sure Luke’s just our baby,” he said, giving the dog an affectionate pat on the chest. “But Astrid might have more to say about that, seeing as he actually lives in her crib.” Luke’s tail thumped at the sound of his name, tongue lolling, perfectly unaware that he’d just been promoted to baby status.
As Vince agreed to his plan, Atti nodded once, the casual grin settling back onto his face. “Perfect. I’ll get the money to you once my guy flips the truck. Could we exchange contact info? Makes it easier to meet up when it’s ready. Cash, clean, no questions asked.” His tone was smooth but practical; he’d done this kind of exchange a dozen times before, and his easy confidence said as much.
Atticus turned his head, eyes narrowing just enough to show alertness without surrendering calm. The figure (Todd) that emerged looked like he’d crawled straight out of a nightmare wearing someone else’s idea of couture. The blades, the grin, the scent of rust and ozone... definitely not someone you’d mistake for a partygoer.
Still, Atti just smirked, half-turning toward him with one hand tucked lazily in his pocket. “My hair’s just fine, but I appreciate the offer,” he said evenly, gaze never leaving the barber’s eerie red eyes. “Let me have a treat.”
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