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I can always try redialling the number later, too.
Plans made, I head downstairs to get breakfast.
Chapter ninety-six
Bishop
Another sleepless night later, and I end up burning a pot of oatmeal while I go to the pantry to look for salt. Then, I break a saltshaker getting it out of a cupboard. I can’t seem to settle while everything feels a bit like it’s still in motion, and I’m starting to become a hazard. Someone else is going to have to deal with making food today.
Clearly my motor skills and my concentration are fucked.
Scout is the first to appear in the kitchen, and I let out a sigh of relief.
“Scout. Thank God it’s you.”
“What’s … Why do you look like you’ve been on back-to-back emergency shifts in Cressidan City Center?” He frowns at me.
Yeah, I look a little worn out. I noticed that in the mirror this morning.
“Thanks for telling me I look like shit. I haven’t been sleeping well.” Or at all.
“You need to sleep,” he tells me, as if I don’t know that.
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you. My brain isn’t happy with that plan lately.”
“Is it about Sapphire?” he asks. “Are you running weird risk assessments in your head all night?”
“No. Yes. Maybe.” I shrug. “Nothing’s working to make me sleep.”
“Exercise,” he says.
“Well, that’s your answer to everything.”
“It’s my answer to a lot of things,” he clarifies. “It should help. You haven’t used the gym this week.”
“I’ll try it later,” I tell him. “Thanks. I need another favor.”
“You want me to do the cooking today?”
“Are you psychic?”
“I don’t need to be for this.”
I guess he doesn’t. I get a mug from the cupboard, ready to grab a coffee when the mug flies out of my hands and crashes on the floor.
“Whoops,” I mutter.
“Sit down,” Scout tells me. “I’ll clean that up and get you a coffee.”
I don’t bother trying to argue. I know when I’m being hopeless.
Sitting down at the table, I rub at my temples.
“How did it go last night?” I ask, knowing something happened this morning, at least.
For a woman who is kind of quiet, Sapphire can really be loud when she’s enjoying herself, and by the sounds of things, that was some party Scout threw her.
“She asked me to mark her,” he admits, glancing up at me before he starts to sweep up the pieces of the broken mug.
