I refuse to answer but apparently Flynn needs no encouragement.
Dexter
Knife to meet you.
Dexter
How about this one?
He sends me a picture of a cereal box with a knife stabbed into it along with the caption #whenyou’reacerealunaliver. I snort despite myself, a smile cracking at the dreadful joke. Then I roll onto my back and groan. It’s official, I’m a horrible person.
Dexter
You laughed, didn’t you?
Hazel
I did not.
Dexter
Thought you weren’t talking to me.
Hazel
I’m not. This is messaging.
Dexter
Don’t forget to go to work, Lilac.
Shit. Work.
I sit bolt upright, deciding to put the fact that Flynn knows my shift schedule away in a locked box for now, because I have ten minutes to get ready and drive to the dispatch center which is twelve minutes away. Yeah, the math ain’t mathing.
I throw on some clothes, type out a quick message to Wright to cover for me and try not to break any traffic laws on my way to the office.
I’m only ten minutes late by the time I make it, pushing open the heavy doors to Seattle Dispatch Center. The office is pretty much a 911 responder’s dream. It got refurbished last year and the whole place is all swanky now. I dash over to the desk I share with Wright and message the word swanky to Olivia for our weird word of the day streak before slipping on my headset.
Olivia is the office tech guru and she pops her head out from her little box sized office in the corner to wave at me.
She types something on her phone and a second later I get a message.
Olivia
Good word. Wright killed your cat off, by the way. It got caught in a lawn mower.
I re-read the message. Trust Wright to choose the most violent excuse for me to be late.
Hazel
You couldn’t have talked her into a flat tire?
Olivia
We’re holding a memorial for Mr. McStuffins this evening.
Hazel
