teslamomma says: hows that curly haired boy of yours?
han says: We are not going to talk about him
teslamomma says: you get him onto that locatelli quick
teslamomma says: my baby is coming out of his shell real fast now
teslamomma says: we got bug sign around him already
han says: that was fast
han says: will move him
Auren Han logs out of the relay tunnel, rubs tired eyes.
His curly haired boy is not coming back to the house tonight. He’s doing some damn hyper-futuristic collaboration with a group of university students, actors and musicians. Auren can’t imagine how on earth he will bring up the subject of an obscure Baroque violinist when he, Auren, is supposed to be a flat-eared philistine.
Or how he will be able to watch the curly haired boy walk off, bearing that viola case towards the end of the world.
Barret, damn him, was not supposed to find the hole in a man’s heart and climb in through it.
That was not in the contract.