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Killian:You’ll figure it out. People usually do.
Cap:Yeah.
Killian:Hold each other close. Hug Jilly double. But, like, don’t make it weird. And tell Bentley to keep his hands to himself.
Cap:This has been the weirdest uplifting conversation I’ve had in ages.
Killian:That’s what I’m here for.
Cap:Just out of curiosity, you’re not some creepy fifty-year-old wannabe sugar daddy trying to use Jilly’s nineteen-year-old sorrow to sext and stuff, right?
Killian:No. I’m 25, which is still too old for Jilly.
Cap:Just checking.
Jilly + Killian
Jilly:Cap talk to you?
Killer:Yeah, why?
Jilly:He made me schedule weekly coffee dates with him and then told me that missing Dicer would simply become woven into the fabric of who we were.
Killer:Sound advice.
Jilly:That YOU gave me a week ago and that fucker tried to pass off as his own sage wisdom. But. He hugged me so damn tight, I let him have the win. Seemed like he needed it.
Killer:Good.
Jilly:What’s your last name, KillIAN?
Killer:When you type my name like that, in my head I read Kill Ian. Which seems sort of mean to anyone named Ian. Are we exchanging last names? Like, for reals?
Jilly:At this point, it’s obvious I need you. We all need you. I’d like to put a face with the texts. Unless you think it’s weird. Shit. You do, don’t you? You want us to stop texting you? How silly of me. We’re just dragging you into our grief, and that isn’t fair.
Killer:No, no, no. No. You guys aren’t dragging me into your grief. I actually like talking to each of you. And we all need a little help sometimes, yeah? It’s totally okay. My last name is Ford. Killian Ford.
Jilly: Nice to meet you, Killian Ford. My last name is Hamilton. And Dicer? His name was Justin Dwitt.
Killer:I mean, should we go ahead and social-media stalk each other at the same time orrrrrrrrrr….
Jilly:I already have you pulled up.
Killer:Damn kids and their computer skillz. I spelled skillz with a z to make me seem more hip.
Jilly:Yeah, didn’t work. But. Holy hell, Killian, why didn’t you tell me you were some hot tattoo’d BMX star?
Killer:It didn’t come up, prom queen.
Jilly:I was homecoming queen, thank you very much.
Killer:You’re in a sorority? Figures. You spelled cunt the first time you texted. Your eyes are an insane shade of green. Nice.
Jilly:You’re one to talk. What are your eyes? Like…the deepest darkest-pit-of-hell black? They look like a girl could drown in them.
Killer:Yeah, that’s what it says on my driver’s license. Drowning-girls-in-the pit-of-hell black.
Jilly:Ew. You’re a cat person? Not a fan. Your sisters are gorg, though. Great genes in your badass little fam.
