Quick call.

Sera

It is a truth universally to be acknowledged that an Ecstatic will be hung over on a Sunday afternoon. So she is, half-dressed, raw and spare, in the sun-warmed kitchen of her shared home in Capitol Hill, picking apart a pain chocolat and drinking Darjeeling (with a soupcon of whiskey) while Dan - having updated Ginger in re: their plans - cooks her up a nice bit plate full of freshly sliced potatoes, with onions and peppers, all meant to make her feel human again.

Do you have a minute? - she texts to Ian. She doesn't call him until he texts back to say: yes, yes he does, yes he does have a minute.

Then she calls him, her voice a little rough from the night before. Intimate, though. Somehow her voice in one's ear always conspires to seem intimate.

"How do you feel about Kalen-sitting?"

That's how she says hello.

Ian

Ian's response didn't come immediately, but it wasn't long (maybe fifteen minutes) before a text showed up on Sera's phone.

Sure. What's up?

So Sera called. And the first thing she said was: How do you feel about Kalen-sitting? Her question was greeted with a beat of silence, followed by a tired sigh.

"Why? Is something going on with him?"

Sera

Quiet on the other end. This beat of silence, which is all morning-after wry.

Then, "He's mooning over some guy who gave him a book of poems by Neruda and drank wine with him until dawn." Okay, poetry and alcohol totally work on Sera, too, but not like that.. "Which would be okay if all it got him was laid and maybe temporarily heart-broken, but there's more to it that I couldn't quite figure out. He thinks this guy is into something bad but that he can work him."

Pause.

"Wouldn't tell me anything about him, not even a name. Scolded me for asking because if someone else approached they might spook him. Didn't even ask me how I was after the other night. Which is: fine, by the way." Still wry. You know.

"I'm going to make myself scarce for a few days and do some scrying and divination. Will you look in on him?"

Ian

This time, the silence was palpable. Until Ian finally exhaled and said, "...Fuck."

"Alright. Yeah, I'll check in with him." A beat later, "I'm glad you're okay. Be careful."

Sera

"I always am." Sera lies, with perfectly penetrable grace. "Later, Ian."

Click.