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This story is set in the shared Furry Basketball Association storytelling universe. To learn more about it, visit the wiki or come find us on Discord. It features my character Berty Lavoie-Williams, and is set during the summer of 2022, during the summer after the kangaroo's rookie contract expired. It features the characters Callum Williamson (belonging to Rourkie), Mackenzie Sharp (who belongs to Intaurnet), and Sandra Harris (belonging to Hoomiku).

There will be an additional story, written by Rourkie, showing Callum's summer.

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Part 1 - Montreal

Party's lame. You're lucky you couldn't make it. I think my muzzle's going to be all cramped from fake smiling all afternoon. Callum might kill me for dragging him here. Keeping count of how many times somebody's jokingly asked one of us what team we're playing for next season. Send me guesses - will send you the total at the end of the party. I hope you haven't melted in Florida yet. Please don't do something weird and sha--

"So tell me. Did they try to make you wear the crown?"

The voice was a long drawl that came from behind my shoulder. I barely heard it over the general hum of conversation in the party. I was already answering as I turned and tucked my phone into my pocket, my text to Mackie unfinished. My voice assumed the casual tone I used when talking at any kind of public event.

"No, but don't give them ideas." I let out my 'a fan just cracked a joke near me' laugh -- practiced to sound the right level of amused and sincere. I used the laugh as an opportunity to look the guy up and down. He was a lean dog of some sort -- a whippet? -- with brown and white fur. Splotches. Nice spot over beaming blue eyes. I focused on those eyes as I continued. "There's no telling how much longer this party's going to go, and I don't know if my neck could take the weight."

"Pity. A crown might look good on you." He arched an eyebrow, then gave a small, meaningful shrug. "Ought to prepare to be treated like royalty for free agency, shouldn't you?"

"Let's not get too ahead of ourselves now." I kept the tone casual and joking, but by now I was looking at him more closely. He seemed a bit young for a scout from a team. A quick look up and down showed that his button-up and slacks were almost certainly tailored. Far too pricy for a reporter looking for a scoop. I let my gaze flick back up to his eyes, and I was surprised to find him leaning a bit more forward, that eyebrow still raised.

"See something you like?" He let the sentence hang in the air, then leaned back, letting his pose become casual again. "Or are you just sizing up the wardrobe for whenever you get your first paycheque on that new contract?"

I wasn't sure how to answer. I mean- okay, let's be honest. I know how to flirt. I'm actually, like, really good at it. More than a few people have called me a heartbreaker. But most of the time that happened in sweaty clubs or when I was out on the town. Okay, yes, also once or twice on a basketball court in college.

Never at a public event, though, and definitely not when I was the guest of honour. God, I'd even joked about it once or twice. I remember making suggestive comments to Kyler and Zack about some of the servers at the awards night during our rookie year. I still can't decide whether the two of them thought I was hilarious or if they wanted to kick me under the table to make me shut up.

But most of these events where I was a focus turned into the most rigid, awkward things known to man. It was a lot of people trying to act casual while delivering the most sanitized small talk possible. I'd already spent the past hour or so talking to brand reps and executives from Crown Rooyal, and posing for pictures with them or their friends. Even the few people that were there for the party were stilted and awkward - more laughing in staged delight at meeting a famous basketball player than actually engaging with me. I'd developed a resistance to it over the years, and having Callum with me for most of the event had helped to lessen the annoyance.

But Callum was gone - he was off doing some of his own mingling for a bit. The rest of the party had died down enough that I was on my own, standing by the bar with this well-dressed whippet in front of me.

So I tried to not let it show that I was off-balance, and instead just shrugged. "If you're hoping for a sneak peek of where I'm thinking of going next season, you're going to be disappointed."

"Am I?" His muzzle cracked into a wider grin. "Pity. Well, if you're not going to play along, I guess I'll have to do it alone. I'm hoping not the Lone Stars... or is it Swashbucklers now? Either way, far too boring of a step for you."

He was keeping his voice casual, but I could see how sharp his eyes were as he watched me. I just laughed and shook my head. "You'll have to try harder than that."

"I will, won't I?" He turned away from me abruptly, and towards the bar. He snapped his fingers twice - I held in a wince at the gesture - and then called over to one of the bartenders. "Two old fashioneds for my friend and I." He glanced over at me and winked. "Don't worry, I'll pay for drinks."

I rolled my eyes at him. "At a brand party for a whiskey where the drinks are covered. What a gentleman."

"You wound me. No, that's why we're doing old fashioneds here." He leaned over to me, close enough that I could hear his theatrical whisper. "We'll let them water down the Crown Rooyal with simple syrup, so that I can buy you a drink made with a real whiskey when we go out after this."

I blinked in surprise. Points for boldness. "I'm not sure you're allowed to say that here."

"Why? You think the organizers will send out the dobermans in black suits to disappear me?"

"Or sweat and awkwardly try to laugh it off like a fun, planned gag in the evening."

His grin widened. "So the kangaroo does have a sharp side. Good."

I restrained my grin at hearing that. Okay, he was a fun flirt. At the very least, he was a good diversion from the monotony of the party while Callum was away.

The bartender returned with the old fashioneds, and I took mine from him with a small, apologetic nod for the whippet's behaviour before.

"So," I said, turning around. I leaned my back against the bar and looked out over the party. The bar had been done up in the purple and gold of Crown Rooyal. There were enormous tv screens set up along the walls, showing past Furmula One races from Montreal. I was thankful that they hadn't put up any pictures of me. Sure, I was the guest of honour for their special event, but it was all a thinly veiled excuse for the liquor company to have a party the same weekend as the race without actually being an official sponsor, so my face wasn't taking as prominent a place. I took a long sip of the drink, and then continued without looking back over to the whippet next to me. "You're hoping not the Swashbucklers?"

I could almost hear him rolling his eyes when he responded. "God no. What a waste of your talent." I was sipping when he said it, and I couldn't stop myself from almost choking on the rye. "Struck a nerve?"

"Let's find out. Why a waste?"

"Because something tells me that being on the team of Marcus Knight isn't a great career move for you."

I finished my sip, and swallowed as slowly as I could. I needed time to think about how I would respond to that. I eyed the glass like there was something interesting on it, then said. "That's quite the opinion. Marcus is a great guy."

"'Marcus is a great guy.'" The whippet did a quick, casual impersonation of my voice. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him waving a hand around melodramatically. His next words were dismissive. "No wonder everybody forgot about you after that rookie combine."

It caught me off guard."Being a rookie all star and making the rookie of the year shortlist doesn't sound like 'forgotten' to me."

"Yeah. Bet that's going to bring the contract offers just piling in."

"I've made good on every opportunity I've gotten."

"Then why are your numbers so low?"

"There's only so much I can do when everybody on the team's brain is hardcoded to pass to M--"

I caught myself. Just. I was looking at him now. I forced back the heat I was feeling, and instead tried to settle my face into a cool glare. For his part, he just gave a grin that immediately cut some of my aggression.

Okay. Yes. He was obscenely handsome.

The whippet shook his head. "My my. They've got you nice and media-trained, don't they?"

I gave my drink a small swish, then cleared my throat. "At a public event where I'm a special guest? With plenty of reporters around to potentially overhear every word I say? A shock."

"What a difficult life it must be, spending all your time playing so carefully. Especially when you hardly need to anymore."

"I'm slowly narrowing down my possible profiles of who you might be. New clue: somebody who's never had media training."

"Oh but I've had it, my dear." He leaned over, and spoke in that stage whisper again. "I've just taken my learning about handling the media a step further. Learned the things they don't want you to know." He tapped the side of his muzzle.

"How mysterious. So what are these secrets?"

"Media training, my dear Mr Lavoie-Williams, is all about learning how to speak without actually saying anything, so that you don't cause any trouble or raise controversy. The step after media training is recognizing when you've reached a point where you don't have to care about causing trouble or raising controversy anymore. For example, telling a team that you're tired of being the nice team player, and that it's time for them to treat you like a star."

I reached up to rub at my temples. I made a mental note to wait to sip any more of my drink until I was away from the whippet. His bluntness was cutting through the general haze I was feeling from the afternoon of polite socializing. It was something I used to rely on Callum for in university, or Ciro back in Austin. "I'm starting to think it's not safe for me to talk to you here. I might just say something."

"Which is why we're going to ditch this drab place, and you're going to come to a real club where I can buy you that real drink I mentioned earlier. You might even have a good time. And I promise it'll be more discrete than here."

I turned to face him again. His grin was downright predatory by now. The bar we were at was in the Loughty Sainte-Marie, one of the most upscale hotels in downtown Montreal, and Callum and I had needed a security card to get into it. It did have the lifeless feeling of a corporate boardroom, but it was far and away more expensive than any bar I'd been in prior to signing with the FBA. I couldn't tell if him dismissing it so easily was a play, or a sincere opinion.

"Why are you even here?" I finally asked. I wasn't being aggressive - I was genuinely curious. "Like, you're acting as if it's some sort of great burden for you to be at this event. So what brings you?"

His poker face was better than mine. He took a moment to consider his response, and when he gave it his voice was smooth. "Making an appearance on behalf of my father. His company has some ties to Crown Rooyal, and it's good to have a member of the family turn up and show some support. So my friends and I figured we would take a small detour from our summer vacation to pay a visit, maybe watch the race."

"Summer vacation?"

"Yes, it's a thing that young people with disposable income like to do. Is that a foreign concept to you?"

"I grew up above a restaurant and then I was a college athlete. Disposable income and time off aren't exactly things I've had in ample supply."

"Well how fortunate that you're due for a significant pay raise, hm? Perhaps somebody ought to show you what to do with all that money."

I gave him a look, and he responded with an expression of sweet innocence. He was good. I inclined my head meaningfully and went on. "I more meant what type of summer vacation involves a quick detour to an invitation-only event in Montreal on the side?"

"Just a regular old globe-trotting romp over the summer. We each take turns picking a spot and planning out what we'll do there, and then we all head over. I think we're off to Hong Kong next."

I only realized I was staring at him when I saw his expression change. I tried to wipe the look off my face, but the smirk on his muzzle made it clear that he'd already noted it.

He went on as though he hadn't seen a thing, though. "But that's why I was here to begin with. Why I'm still here? I found something interesting."

"Glad to hear I qualify as 'something interesting.'" I kept my voice dry as I replied.

"Oh, good. Keep up the quips like that and you just might get what you deserve in those contract negotiations." The whippet took a sip of his own old fashioned - his first. He grimaced, then shot me a look I assume was meant to be commiserating, and slid the full drink back onto the bar behind him. Then he looked back to me. "Come out with my friends and I tonight. You're far too pretty for this to be your one appearance on the town this weekend."

I kept eying him. At length, I muttered, "I have a boyfriend, you know."

"A pity. But you're both professional athletes playing on opposite sides of the league. I'm sure a single night out isn't going to ruin things. Unless you want it to." He smirked, then held up his hands. "Joking. But really, you've been at a stuffy event all afternoon. You deserve to live a bit tonight."

I kept eying him. Then I shrugged, and said, "I'll think about it. Alright if my friend comes with me?"

"Of course." His expression had something odd about it. Only later would I realize that it was the look he got when he thought he'd won something. "We're meeting at Trrx. There'll be a line when you get there. Just walk to the front like you own the place -- you might be surprised by how effective that is. If that doesn't work, tell them you're with me."

"And who exactly are you?"

The whippet slapped a hand to his chest, a look of mock shock crossing his muzzle. "Goodness, all this talk and I never introduced myself. You must think I'm a brute."

"No manners at all."

He held out his hand. "Cassius. Cassius Loughty."

I was already holding his hand when I heard the last name, so I know he felt me tense. He didn't show it, though. He gave me a small nod, then turned and made his way off into the rest of the party.

I stood where I was after he left, trying not to stare after him. I'll admit it - I wanted to go. I didn't know what I could get out of it, but everything about the exchange had left me a bit off-balance, and I wanted to see what came next.

The one problem was that I knew that Callum wouldn't want to come with me. Along with helping me deal with the boredom of official events in college, Callum had been the one who'd always helped me navigate the more upscale and formal events. Sure, I'd helped serve at some of my mom's restaurants, including at events that were more black tie. That didn't translate to me knowing how to act as an attendee to one. But Callum had a feel for how to behave, and also how to read what was happening around us at the rare events we attended at Claiborne.

I would ask him if he wanted to come along, but I wasn't sure that a night out with a bunch of young socialites on holiday would really be his cup of tea. One time when he was drunk he went on a several minute rant about how shitty social get togethers between 'rich assholes' were. Still, it was worth a try.

I downed the last of my drink, and put it back on the bar. My eyes couldn't avoid locking onto the coaster I'd put it down on - an elaborate coat of arms, and printed underneath in plain text: Loughty Casinos and Resorts.

Part 2 - Singapore

Mom was right. There's just, like, giant open air food courts all over the place. I had this rice for lunch? kinda breakfast? yesterday that had chicken with it that was, like, impossibly moist. And the skin frigging crackled when I bit into it. It was so fugging good. Missing you right now -- I know, a trip like this is kind of crazy, and I get why you didn't come along. Pretty sure Mr Miami Dog would be having a better time with the heat and humidity here than the Canadian Wonder-Roo. At some point once we're both stupid rich and have more free time I'll bring you here. They've got this amazing botanical garden thing that's, like, built into this multi-level tower you can walk around.

We should figure out some time where we'll both be awake so we can have a call. I miss hearing from you. Talk to you soon!

Love, Berty.

I looked up from my phone. The others had to have left by now. I glanced around the table at the last few empty or half-empty glasses, then back up to the bar. I let out a long sigh, sent my message to Mackie, then stood up from the plush, leather couch.

I made my way over to the bar, my clawtips tapping along the cool marble floors. It was a mixed pattern of white and green, and even this close to the end of service it gleamed in the mirrored light from the sconces in the walls. The few people left in the place at this point were hunched over their drinks at tall tables. There was only one bartender remaining - a lean crocodile in a smartly-tailored waistcoat. The others were probably off doing prep for tomorrow or doing the early tasks for close.

I stepped up to the bar in front of her, and paused for a moment. She glanced up at me, and gave a small, perfectly polite smile. "Mr Lavoie-Williams."

"Hey. Uh, I..." I blinked. Huh. I had no idea how to do this. She didn't rush me, and so I took the opportunity to clear my throat and start again. "Look, I just wanted to apologize about my friends."

"It was no problem at all, Mr Lavoie-Williams. It's always a pleasure to welcome Mr Loughty and his friends."

I'll be honest: I was impressed. She'd managed to say it without a hint of sarcasm. I shrugged, and said, "Right, I know. VIPs and all, can't say anything about them. But, uh..." It was odd. I was suddenly feeling a lot more sympathy for those people I used to serve at mom's restaurants, the ones that were stuck at tables with their rude friends and unable to shut them up. "They were being rude and disrespectful. I'm sorry you had to put up with them."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Mr Lavoie-Williams." She still had that easy smile. She was good. "It was a pleasure having both you and your friends visiting."

"Right, uh... But look, you don't have to, um--"

It was as I was staring at her pleasantly neutral expression that it clicked, and then it hit me like a punch in the gut. I wasn't going to get the two of us on the same level. I wasn't going to be able to joke with her about how bad that table had been. She wouldn't let me bridge that gap. She was a bartender, and I was there with the son of the owner of an international chain of hotels and resorts. She couldn't let me connect with her about this. I had to pause as I worked through it.

I swallowed, then gave a nod. "Either way. Thank you." My fingers were shaking a bit as I reached into the inner pocket of my jacket, and fished out my wallet. I thumbed through it until I found a few bills. "I know it's not normal to tip here, but uh, you earned it."

"Thank you, Mr Lavoie-Williams. That's very generous of you." She was still looking up at me with a perfect mask of professionalism.

I put the bills on the bar, and made to leave. I hesitated, though. It felt weird leaving like this. As a last-ditch attempt to connect, I said, "For what it's worth, I would have kicked them out."

She didn't break that pleasant look, but also didn't respond. I stood there for an uncomfortably long couple of seconds, then dipped my head and walked hurriedly out of the bar. I blinked as I emerged into the brighter lights and plush carpet of the second floor lobby. I shoved my hands into my pockets, and headed for the staircase down to the main floor. The drinks I'd had over the course of the evening were making me feel a bit unsteady. I'd had enough water and food over the evening to keep myself from being sloppy, but a bit more food on the way home to keep me steady wouldn't be a bad idea.

I fished my phone out of my pocket as I walked through the main lobby of the building, and brought up a map. I was swiping through a list of hawker centres and hoping there would be one on my way home that would be open this late, when my thumb accidentally tapped on the building I was exiting. I blinked in surprise when the name flashed up: Williamson Riverside Plaza. I intended to swipe through and see if there was any information about the building, but as I read the name, I passed through the other side of the revolving door. Humidity slammed into me like a wall. My suit jacket and shirt immediately felt plastered down against my fur. I sighed, and started removing the jacket.

"See this is why I said you should take the ride with us."

I was still tangled up in trying to remove my jacket, so I almost fell over as I spun on my foot towards Cassius' voice. I stumbled a step, but managed to catch myself. He was laughing as I righted myself.

"A display of that legendary dancer grace."

I finished getting my arm free from the sleeve, and shot him a look. "I thought you were taking the limo with the others."

"And leave you to walk home alone unescorted? Never."

I snorted. "Ah yes, my escort on the mean streets of... Singapore. Whatever would I do without you."

He gestured down the sidewalk. I folded my jacket over my arm, and started walking. He fell into step behind me. The air was cooler than it was during the day, but still about as hot as most summer days in Toronto, and every bit as sticky, too. The wind coming off the bay helped mitigate both a bit, but it was still a pretty muggy night. The walkway ahead of us led off along the bay, with streetlights keeping it lit the entire way. Off ahead of us, I could see the three towers of Marina Bay Sands. I kept my eyes on it as I led the way, trying not to think too hard again about how much my room there was costing.

"So..." Cassius's voice drifted up to me. "Why did you really stay behind?"

"Like I said, because I wanted to email my boyfriend."

"Still adorable that the two of you are emailing. Going to pick up one of those tacky wax seals and send letters next?"

"It's more romantic than texting."

"Uh-huh. Sounds to me like somebody's avoiding talking to somebody."

I shot him a look over my shoulder. I tried to keep it stern, but I've never been good at that, and he just gave me the dumbest angelic choir boy look I've ever seen, so it turned into a snort.

"No, but really," he pushed, taking a few quicker steps to walk next to me, "you could have finished writing up an email in the car. Or back at the hotel, assuming nobody was distracting you."

"Cass," I said, warning.

"Sorry. The question still stands."

I glanced back over my shoulder at the building, thinking. I debated with myself for a second, then tried. "You guys were pretty hard on that bartender."

I'm not sure if I imagined him balking next to me out of the corner of my eye. A moment later, though, he tilted his head to the side. "I suppose you could say that. You don't have a lot of experience in places like that, though, do you?"

I wanted to laugh. "Are you kidding? You know who my mom is. I've spent more time working in restaurants than you've spent eating in them."

"Right, right, you have plenty of experience with that kind of place, but this is different." He wagged a hand at me as he drew out the last word. "Look, that bar? The Boulevard? It's one of the top 50 bars in the world, year after year. It's one of the main reasons to visit the Riverside. It's not the sort of place where you can just be sloppy like that. I'm sure you've seen your mom ream out her employees before."

"It was one mixed up drink." It was rare that I saw my mom get pissed at one of her staff. Sure, she was sharp with everybody, but if she was actually upset with someone, she had that conversation in private. I tried to keep the heat out of my voice as I replied, "Besides. That's for her boss to give her shit for, not you guys."

"If her boss found out about it, tonight would've been her last night working there." He let that hang in the air, and then shrugged. "So yeah. We gave her a hard time. We didn't do anything that would make her lose her job or anything, though. If the Williamsons run their places anything like my dad runs his, then what we did was nice."

I felt my ear give an involuntary twitch at that name. I thought back to the name on my map: the Williamson Riverside Plaza. I wanted to keep pushing about the bartender, but my curiosity got the better of me. I did my best to keep my voice even as I replied. "Those Williamsons sound like hardasses."

Cassius snorted. I didn't miss his tail giving a hard twitch behind him. "Mmhm. That's one word for it. I suppose that's what it takes to be," he cleared his throat, and put on a forced proper, English accent, "the owners of one of the finest shipping and logistics companies in the entire world."

It wasn't exactly the answer I was looking for. We stepped out onto a pedestrian bridge over one of the rivers coming off of the bay, and I turned to face him. "So do they have a reputation or something for being demanding? You know, beyond the finest in the wide world stuff."

"They're a holding company. It's the building with their name on it in one of the most important shipping cities in the world. They're going to have potential clients or partners visiting that bar. Or the devastatingly handsome sons of potential clients or partners." He batted his eyelashes at me. I snorted. "They've got license to be demanding there."

We kept walking. I was getting the impression that he wanted to say more - it's not like he was subtle about that. In the month I'd known him, I'd long since learned that Cassius didn't like to hold it in when he knew something. I didn't push him, however much I wanted to.

We'd gone another few minutes, weaving around a few drunk tourists that were also enjoying the bay. When Cassius spoke up, his voice was hesitant. "Though, y'know. There are stories."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I mean, there are always stories about everybody, of course." I opened my mouth to prompt him, but he just kept going. "But still. There are rumours that the Williamsons had a kid."

I waited for him to go on. He didn't, though. I felt like there was something I was supposed to be taking from that, but I was just missing. Finally, frustrated, I asked, "How can there be just a 'rumour' that they had a kid? I feel like that's pretty black and white in most cases."

"Well, suppose they did. You don't really see her around anywhere now." He nodded meaningfully. "So what happened? Did they disown her for a nefarious reason? Was there a shocking discovery about her parentage? Did she wear the wrong colour to a social function when she was ten?" He glanced over at me, clearly expecting me to be laughing. I don't know what expression I had on my face, but for maybe the first time since I'd met him, he faltered, then added, "The last one was a joke, by the way. Look, I know people in my, uh, wealth bracket are particular at times, but even that's taking it a bit extreme."

"Right."

"Are you alright?"

"Yes." My voice was tighter than I intended. I cleared my throat, then said, "Uh, no. I was actually thinking of stopping for food on the way back to the hotel. A few too many cocktails."

"Marina Bay Sands has a perfectly adequate room service, I assure you."

"True." I glanced over at him, and tried to force a smirk to my face. "Hawker centres are more fun, though."

He rolled his eyes at me, but there was a grin playing at his muzzle.

We walked a few more minutes through the night, and then turned off of the walking path and away from the water. We passed a couple streets, before slipping under the roof of an enormous, open-air hawker centre. It was one of the few 24 hour ones, and at this time of night it wasn't too crowded. Still, ducking from the relative quiet of the night into the bright lights and cramped voices of the centre was a bit of a shock. Cassius ducked off to find a plastic table to sit at, and I slipped through the thin crowds to try to figure out what all the stalls were selling.

Normally I probably would've been there for half an hour before deciding what to order, but I felt bad leaving Cassius waiting. I grabbed stuff from the first stall I saw that I liked. I weaved through the crowd back to Cassius, balancing a bowl of broth and noodles in one hand. I slid it onto the table as I took my seat, and Cassius raised an eyebrow at me.

"What?" I asked.

"How is it that you're as tall as a giant but you can just move through crowds like that?"

I laughed, and grabbed up my chopsticks. "It's literally my job to move past people that want to stop me. That's what they pay me the big bucks for. You want some?"

He held up a hand to indicate no, so I shrugged and dug in. I was halfway through slurping up some noodles and chewing on crispy fried shallot when Cassius spoke again. "So is that the way you've been talking in your contract negotiations?"

I looked up at him, noodles still hanging from my muzzle. He gestured for me to finish, and I slurped them up. I paused to wipe broth from my muzzle with a napkin before I answered. "What way?"

"'It's literally my job to move past people that want to stop me.' That's a hell of a tagline."

I considered, then muttered, "I've been making my demands pretty clear."

"Okay, okay," he held up both hands and shook his head. "No. That's where you're tripping over yourself."

I stirred the broth and noodles some with my chopsticks, eying him. "How so?"

"You're calling them demands. They're not demands. People can negotiate around demands. They're requirements. They're base level for consideration."

I paused to snatch up half a hard boiled egg with my chopsticks. I held it up, watching it balance on the chopsticks. "I think I like that wording." I popped the egg into my mouth, and slowly chewed it as Cassius tapped on the table and continued.

"Exactly. I mean, remember what we were saying about the bartender back at Boulevard? And the Williamsons? They don't demand that their employees are perfect. They require it. Anything less than perfect is unacceptable."

"See now you're losing me," I said around the egg.

He paused at that and looked me up and down. Then he tilted his head to the side, so that his ears flopped over. I tried to ignore what a cute look it was as he asked, "How long are you training every day right now?"

I eyed him, not sure where he was going with this. I was hesitant when I answered. "About three hours." He gave me a disbelieving look, so I sighed and said, "On the light days, three hours. If we don't have anything planned, normally five or six."

"Yeah." Cassius leaned forward, and tapped the table again. "You're on vacation. This is your down time. And you're training that much. That's what you require from yourself. If that's what you're delivering, then how can a team possibly offer you less than the best?"

I kept watching him. I was getting down to the bottom of my bowl. I put down my chopsticks and spoon, and lifted the bowl to my lips. I looked at him over the rim. "Okay, we'll put it like this. I've told every team I'm negotiating with that I'm going to be the star of their team. Not just one of the faces - the main one."

"With pay to match."

"Gotta pay for this trip somehow, don't I?" I tipped the bowl back and drank what was left. I put it back down on the tray. "I know what I want."

"What you want and what you deserve." He raised an eyebrow. "A team that's yours."

"Nothing less."

I picked up the tray. Cassius followed me over to the garbage and tray drop-off. I had just slid the tray into the stack when I felt him brush up against me from behind. I turned, surprised, and then he was up on his toes and pressing against me. I was so startled that I didn't even react at first when he pressed his lips to mine. I think my brain just froze - his body was pressing onto mine, and the smell of his cologne made the scent of sweat and food vanish. It took me a second or two to realize that I was kissing him back.

At that, I pulled back sharply. He let me break the kiss, but he kept his arms wrapped around me, and managed to keep me from pulling away. He had an eyebrow raised up at me. "Don't go backing up against the garbage cans in that new suit. It's so good on you."

"I--" My brain was moving slow as I stared down at him. I could feel my breath coming quick. I let my gaze dart around - there were a few people looking over at us, but I didn't see any phones up or anything. I tried to calm myself as I spoke. "What was that?"

"I feel like it was pretty forward and blunt."

"I-- Cass, I've told you, I have a boyfriend."

"So?"

There was something about the matter-of-fact way that he said it that made my brain trip over the words it was trying to put together. Or maybe it was the combination of the heat, the alcohol, and the late hour. Either way, I didn't try to cut him off as he went on.

"Berty. We've been flirting basically since we met. You know you want this."

"But again, I have a--"

"How's he going to know?"

"It doesn't matter whether or not he knows!"

"We just talked about how much work you put in. You've got to find a way to relax." I opened my mouth to answer again, but he held a finger up against my lips. "Please. I bet you that every other pro athlete has people on the side that they can go and visit on the road."

I kept staring down at him. It was really, really hard to think like that, with him pressed up against me. My brain was feeling sluggish. I swallowed hard, then finally muttered, "Uh. You think?"

"You want to start getting what you want?" He leaned forward, close enough that I could feel his hot breath sliding along the underside of my muzzle. "Then you need to start taking what you want."

He pressed his lips against mine again. It was less of a surprise this time. It took me a second, but then I was closing my eyes and returning the kiss. I don't know what to tell you; I was tired, I was confused and frustrated from the day, and it just felt good. When I pulled away, I took a moment to catch my breath, and then whispered out, "Nobody can know about this."

"Of course not."

"I care about Mackie. I don't want him to get hurt."

"Of course, of course. He's not on the trip. It's just one little detail he doesn't need to hear about." He stopped to look up at me, as though taking me in again. Then his muzzle spread wide in a smile. "Now come on. It's time for me to take what I want."

And that time, it was me that kissed him.

Interlude - Cape Canaveral

"Hey."

I was startled to hear Callum's voice right behind me. I stood up in surprise, pulling my hand out of the cooler. This let the wallaby slip by me and lean down, shoving his own hand in among the ice and the cans.

I took a quick look around the room to see if anybody else was there. The barbecue was more focused on astronauts than basketball players, so Callum and I were less pinned down than usual at public events. Still, the two of us hadn't gotten a moment alone to talk since we'd arrived. When I saw that nobody else had wandered into the kitchen's back room with him, I let myself tilt my head back and mutter. "Oh thank god."

Callum laughed. "You're jumpy today." He stood back up and offered me a beer. "At least the drinks aren't shitty. Looks like they even imported a few Canadian beers for the occasion."

"Looked like they've got beers from, like, everywhere." I reached out and took the can he was offering - the surface was already beading with condensation.. "I think they've got a few Japanese ones in there or something." I cracked the can and took a long sip. The drink immediately cut into the humidity - even in the evening, the heat was intense. There was a long moment of quiet, and then I asked, "So I want to make sure. I'm not dumb for not understanding a thing they're saying about this mission, right?"

Callum gave a sideways smirk. "No, I'm pretty much as lost as you are on that front. I don't like feeling out of my depth, but... a lot of this is over my head. I bet if Jim were here, he could explain it to us, but..." The wallaby let it hang in the air for a moment. He tried again. "At least some of the guys here can talk about basketball, even if the best they can come up with is 'Oh, hey, you were on the Alphas, Lance's old team, right?' I mean, come on, that's like, ancient history."

I nodded, and took another sip of beer. I took a moment before I spoke again. I knew exactly what I wanted to talk about, but making it click was tricky. "So. I saw that the cameras were getting real friendly with you and Kat. How's, um..." I paused, thinking, and then landed on, "that?"

Callum looked confused for a moment, and then it seemed to click. "Oh, yeah, you used to know them! That's right, I kinda forgot about that. It's been kinda great, actually. We've been going to all sorts of events and I got to meet a few pretty famous ballet dancers. She's really talented, I can see why the two of you really hit it off."

I gave a very slow blink. "Yeah. Hit it off." That was one word for what the years of playing opposite her had been like. I took another long sip of beer, trying to think about how to get what I wanted out of him. "So has she, uh. Sorry, trying to find the right way to put this. Has she made any... grand gestures to you?" I paused, then rushed ahead. "Like, done anything really big? Really really big that seems kind of, uh..." I made a vague gesture, hoping it would tell him, 'please elaborate.'

"Uh... no?" Callum glanced at me quizzically. It was an honest enough look that I guessed he had no idea what I meant. "I mean, she's brought me around to a few parties and VIP events, but nothing super big. Like... She did comp me some tickets to an opera a few weeks ago....?"

"Oh. Cool." I took another long sip. I suppose people could change. Maybe. "Well, that sounds like fun. I'm glad you're getting to see a different bit of Toronto. I'm always afraid that I'm just dragging you to all of my favourite places and not going anywhere else. I remember that Kat liked the, uh... finer side of stuff."

"Yeah, it's been fun! I mean, it's not like I don't have fun with you, too, it's just been a nice change of pace. I mean. Uh. Yeah, so... how's traveling the world been? I hope you've gotten to see some new and interesting places."

"It's been good!" Yeah, that was a safe way to put it. Cass had been pissed when I mentioned I was skipping out on the Monaco leg of the trip to come to the party, see friends, and visit Mackie. Thinking about that made my gut feel weird, so I tried to just move along. "I mean, the food's been awesome, I'm getting to see stuff that isn't just, y'know..." I made another vague gesture, then laughed, "that isn't just the US or Canada? So yeah, uh, good. Been tricky trying to keep in touch with teams for negotiations over the summer, but I think I'm making some good headway. Cass has been helping me a bit on that front."

"Yeah, that's cool. I'm glad you have a lot of offers coming in. I still have just the one, but Kat and Cristien have been pretty supportive, insisting that I'll-- Wait. Cass?" Callum furrowed his brow. "Cass? Like... Cassius Loughty? Of Loughty Hotels? The hotel group that hosted that party in Montreal? What the fuck are you doing hanging out with him?"

I blinked. I briefly wanted to ask who the hell just knew the names of billionaires' kids, but the past month or so had opened my eyes a bit. "Yes? He's the guy who invited us out after the Montreal thing." That was when I caught up with what Callum had said, and I blinked again. "Wait. Cristien? You're hanging out with both Kat and Cristien?"

"Uh, yeah, they're like, a package deal." Fuck. "Can't have one without the other, I thought you knew that? And I had no idea that was Cassius, or I would have told you no fucking way. All those rich assholes want to do is party and spend money that isn't theirs. I know you said you made some new friends at the party, but I didn't think you were stupid enough to fall into that lot."

I reached up and kneaded at my forehead. His words stung - he really knew how to be an ass when he wanted to. There were more important things to cover, though. "Okay, no. Stop, one step back." I paused, opening and closing my mouth a few times, before saying, "I assumed if you and Kat were..." That she and Christien had finally figured things out, or Christien was finally out of the picture, or... who knew? "Right. Okay. Just. You don't want to get in the middle of that, alright? From experience, it's not worth the headache or the whiplash. I get that you're having fun, but you want to back off from this one."

"Hey, I don't tell you how to spend your time off. If I did, I'd tell you what a fucking creep Cassius Loughty is and that you're getting yourself in way over your head." I didn't realize how hard I was clenching my beer in my hand until I heard the aluminum creaking. "You don't know these people, Berty. They don't give a shit about you. You're not one of them and you won't ever be, no matter how nice they play with you."

And I guess that's when I boiled over.

"That's why I fucking asked, Callum!" I snapped this. Somehow I was keeping myself from shouting, but I didn't know how. "No, I don't know these people, or what it means to run in these circles. I get that, alright? But I asked if you wanted to come out in Montreal because you do know this shit. You refuse to even talk about it, though! Like, I get that stuff happened with you, but..." I was scrambling for words. Trying to figure out how to explain to him that, poisoned as they were for him, I hadn't had his chances. I'd never gotten to experiment with running in those circles. What came out surprised me, though. "Callum, I told you about my grandparents. I introduced you to my moms. You won't tell me a fucking thing about your past or this world beyond some vague stuff about your family. And if you don't want to, fine, I get it, I won't make you. Cass and his friends are at least willing to show me, though."

"You never told me you wanted to see the fucking world - we could have gone anywhere you wanted to go! I could have brought you to all my favourite places, if you had ever told me that's what you wanted to do. Of course I'd wanna travel with my best fucking friend, are you fucking kidding me?" Tears were rolling down his cheeks. He wasn't getting by with this one, though. He wasn't going to cry and use it as a get out of jail free card. Not this time. What he was saying wasn't the point.

"And you really wanna know what my family was like? They painted me up like a doll to dance and perform for their friends, and then shoved me into a boarding school on the other side of the world when they couldn't make me pretty enough anymore and I refused to be daddy's little girl. Fuck, Berty, I thought you knew that? I don't HAVE a relationship with my family, so there's nothing to share with you!"

"That's exactly why you should get the fuck away from Cristien and Kat! Can't you see that they're--"

"Honestly, what kind of dumbass drinks straight out of a bottle of Taba--" I caught myself as a cloud of black fur walked into the backroom, grumbling. I immediately recognized Sandra, the jackal that had invited us. She stopped as she saw the two of us. I knew that my fist was still clenched around my partially crushed can, and Callum's eyes were red. There was a long moment of quiet before she spoke. "... Oh. Uh..."

I cleared my throat. I drained my remaining beer, then tossed the empty can into the empties container. I bent to grab another drink out of the cooler, using it as an excuse to turn my face away. I grabbed a can without looking to see what it was, then stood up and stepped by Sandra. My voice was too quick as I spoke. "Gonna go see if I can grab Aldrich for a sec before I head out. Thanks for the invite, Sandra."

Then I was out the door. I made my way through the party, and then outside into the dark and the humidity. There were people all around me: engineers, astronauts, their families. I let myself stop to take a long drink of my new beer.

I'd been looking forward to the short break from Cass and his friends. I was equal parts looking forward to and dreading seeing Mackie again, too. Now, though, my head felt hot, and all I wanted to do was get out of Florida and back on the road.

Part 3 - London

So I'll admit - running on cobblestones is awful. I think if I lived here, it would be enough for me to finally look into those dumb roo-feet shoes that some people use. Either way, London's been great so far. The food's awesome (as per usual), and despite what people say, the weather hasn't been all grey and rainy every day.

That's so great that you've heard from a team. I know you can't really say who until there are firmer plans and offers and such, but let me know as soon as you can. Negotiations are going pretty well on my end. I think this is going to be a big step up for me.

Can't wait to see you again.

Love, Berty.

I finished writing the message to Mackie, and my thumb hovered over the send button. I stared at it for what felt like a long time, and then I groaned and backed out of the message. I slipped my phone back into my pocket, and then sat back on the bench. It was mid-morning by now. The sounds of traffic were up in full force, even in the small park square I'd found, and the heat was already starting to reach the same intensity we'd gotten over the past few days. The very light jogging hoodie I'd worn to brunch was starting to feel like too much. I knew I would be more comfortable if I headed back to the Rosewood.

I checked my phone again. I was probably a ten minute jog away from the hotel. It was about half an hour to the time Cassius had wanted us to be ready to depart for the London Open. I weighed my options, then swiped back through to my messaging app. I looked down at the section for Cassius, which I'd blocked notifications from after leaving brunch. There were sixteen unread messages - the last one a very blunt "Where the fuck are you?" I couldn't hold in a grin. It was a bit of a switch from his standard, 'I'm so smart I can use thirty words where I could use three,' style.

I saw another message come in, and then closed my phone. Okay. Maybe it was time.

I took off jogging again. Between the heat and the activity, I knew that I was a mess. My long hair was pulled back in a deeply messy ponytail, and I knew I would need a shower before I was in an appropriate state. The thought of Cass pacing back and forth while growing increasingly frustrated brought a grin to my face.

I jogged in through the front of the Rosewood, and kept up my light jog through the courtyard. The few guests and members of staff didn't look up at my passing - we'd spent enough time there over the past few days for people to be used to the bizarrely tall kangaroo.

I finally stopped as I entered the lobby. A wall of cool air greeted me, and I took a moment to stand there and catch my breath. A member of the staff, a short guinea pig, was already walking over to me, a towel draped over his forearm.

"Mr Lavoie-Williams." He offered the towel, and I took it gratefully. "Will you be needing anything?"

"Could you send up something iced to Mr Loughty's suite? Some tea or something?"

"We have some lovely mint tea that I would recommend."

"Please." I kept mopping my face with the towel for a moment before I added, "Maybe wait fifteen minutes or so before sending it up."

"Of course."

He walked away, and I made my way over to the staircase. There was no need for whoever delivered the tea to walk in on an argument.

I started a slow jog up the winding staircase. The few people I passed on the way up stepped to the side for me, and I gave them all appreciative nods. I had worked myself up to a decent sweat again by the time I reached the door that led to our suite. I paused and took a moment to mop my brow with the towel, then drape it over my shoulders. I took a deep breath, set myself, then swiped my keycard and stepped through the door.

I'd barely had time to take in the entryway of our ridiculously luxurious accommodations before I heard Cass's strained voice snap, "Finally!"

I kept my face straight as I kicked off my running shoes, and made my way from the entrance over towards the sitting room. The suite was larger than any apartment I'd lived in - I was pretty sure that the sitting room alone could fit our entire place in Toronto inside of it. Cass was talking as I came in. He was fully dressed for the tennis tournament, his tailored clothing immaculately pressed and his hair styled. He was just standing up and sliding a pair of shades on as I entered.

"I sent the others ahead so that they wouldn't be late. So long as you go and get dressed quickly, we should still be there at an appropriate time. 'Fashionably late' is mostly a load of bullshit, but we might be able to pass it off as..." His voice trailed off as he turned to face me. I could tell through his shades that his eyes were darting up and down my body, taking in my matted fur, my sweaty hair, and the tight shorts and loose hoodie hanging off of me.

I managed to contain my grin as I used the towel around my shoulders to dab at my muzzle. "What?"

"We--" He stopped, catching himself. I could see the tension in his body - it reminded me of watching an opposing player preparing to make a move, just with none of the discipline. When he spoke again, his voice had an edge of franticness to it. "We're supposed to be taking a seat at Centre Court in..." he checked his watch, "at absolute latest, forty minutes! What are you doing?"

"I'm a professional athlete, Cass, as you were so happy to repeatedly remind us all over brunch." I kept my voice dry. "I have daily responsibilities, remember?"

"I'm sure there are going to be other pro athletes there who didn't feel inclined to go jogging forty minutes before getting to the court." His voice was getting shrill. He stopped to take a few calming breaths, holding his hands out to the side. "Whatever. Go, have a shower, hurry up. The hotel has a car waiting for us. If you hurry, we might still get there on time."

I just stood there, watching him. He stared back at me, waiting for me to move. When I didn't, he made a small, frustrated gesture, as though beckoning me to head to the bathroom. I tapped my large paw impatiently on the floor.

"What?" he finally snapped.

"We talked about being rude to waitstaff."

He blinked. Then he reached up and kneaded at his forehead, and muttered, "Oh lord, Berty."

"You guys were being assholes. Again."

"It was bad service."

"They didn't have the ingredients."

"Which again, is unacceptable at a restaurant like that."

"What's your problem?" I finally snapped. "First you blow me off in front of everybody when I suggest we go to Toronto next, then you make that poor server feel like shit. You're being an asshole!"

"Oh Berty." His voice dripped condescension. He reached up and slid his shades off his muzzle, and I could see the slight teasing look in his eyes. "Is this really about the whole Toronto thing? Come on, if it means that much to you, you and I can take a visit there, just the two of us, once the trip's done."

He was walking towards me, making as though to take my hand. I backed off, though. Cass liked to play at the whole teasing asshole thing sometimes, but something about it this time was setting me off. "I thought the whole thing with you and your friends was that everybody takes a turn suggesting the next place. Well, Toronto's the city I know best. I know places that you and your friends have probably never heard of."

"Which I'm sure would be lovely for the two of us to go visit. But the types of places that we tend to like visiting..." he gestured broadly around at the suite - the plush leather couches, the expensive rugs, the hardwood floor, the view out the stained glass windows. "It's just not the same, you understand. I'm sure that the places you would take us would be just fine, but they lack what we're looking for."

He turned away. I was staring at him, not quite sure I'd followed him properly there. He was speaking again, though, seemingly oblivious to my shock. "Now go on. Have a shower, do your hair, and get dressed. The two of us are going to look simply ravishing at Centre Court. You can hint to everybody about all of the teams that are offering you everything you've ever dreamed to come play for them. Really build up some excitement for the coming season."

My mouth felt dry. I cleared my throat. "Uh. Right. Why don't you go ahead, then. I think I'm going to just stay in today."

He stopped, still facing away from me. His voice was sharp with annoyance when he asked, "What?"

"I don't want to go." I crossed my arms. "You're being kind of gross, and I don't think I want to spend the next eight hours sitting next to you or going to afterparties with you and your friends."

"Please. I promised my friends that we were going to have a special guest with us for the tournament. Who else is going to be pretty enough to draw the cameras our way?"

His tone was teasing and joking. It wasn't the first time he'd said something like that. For once, though, the tone didn't blunt the impact of the words, so instead they hit me like a slap in the face.

"Yeah. I'm not joining in with you to be a show-and-tell for all your rich friends."

"Why not?" He turned to face me again. The shades were fully off again. "That's basically your job."

"I beg your pardon?" I put some venom into the words. The conversation was... I don't know. Each sentence was putting me a bit more off balance. I was starting to feel like I was slipping, and maybe because of that his next words took the wind out of me.

"Oh come the fuck on." The teasing, flirty tone was gone. He was looking me dead in the eye now, and there was something about that look that made me feel... I don't know. Gross. Exposed. "You realize that's the way everybody looks at you, right?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Berty. You're a pro athlete. You're a product people can buy and sell and use for their own benefit. Every one of those team owners just wants to get as much out of you as they can. They want you as the pretty new thing they can put on display. That's exactly what I've been doing, too. I assumed you knew that."

I was staring at him now. I didn't realize my muzzle was hanging open until I clapped it shut. I wanted my voice to be pissed, but it sounded more like it was stammering when I spoke next. "I-- no. Was this whole thing just-- were you using me for clout to show off to your friends?"

"You are not this stupid. Please tell me you're not this stupid. I mean, come on, you're cute and you're fun to have around, but you can't really think I wanted you around for your extensive knowledge of hidden gem divebars or insights on ballet or whatever." He saw the look on my face, and snorted. "Okay, you have to get this. That's the score. Not just with me. Anybody that wants you as a star on their team isn't doing it because they think you're any better than anybody else. They want you because they figure you'll draw enough attention." He rolled his eyes, his tone dismissive. "Maybe you're a better deal for them than I thought. I'd lay bets that you say or do something dumb this year and draw your team all sorts of attention."

I kept glaring at him. My fists were clenched at my sides. I wanted to yell something at him. I wanted to be smarter or more savvy. I wanted to be right. All I could do was glare, though, because, well.

I didn't know. I just didn't.

Cass took a few deep breaths, then turned away from me. He walked over to a mirror perched on the writing desk, and began adjusting his suit and hair. "It seems like you're going to need some time to put yourself together. I'll go on ahead and have the hotel get another car ready for you. Text me when you arrive and I'll see if I can get you up to our seats. Take your time."

He turned and walked out of the room. I listened to his leather shoes echoing on the hardwood floors, then the door open and close.

Then I was alone in the suite.

I don't know how long I stood there. It could have been a few seconds, it could have been a few minutes.

When I started walking, I was moving slow. I headed into the bathroom, and started the shower. My brain felt like it was full of static and snow.

The showerhead was one of those weird soft rainfall ones, recessed into the ceiling. It felt soothing on my back. The patter of the water dripping off of me and onto the floor echoed back at me in the massive shower chamber.

After a while, I leaned back against the closest wall, then let myself slide down into a sitting position on the floor. The water kept running, and I just stared at the fogging glass of the dividing wall.

I was so fucking stupid. My brain kept jumping to anger or frustration at Cassius, but every time I did, I eventually started trying to argue with what he'd said in my head. No matter how hard I tried to twist his words or drum up any kind of imaginary comeback, I couldn't find anything to refute what he'd said.

Of course he'd been using me. I mean, he practically told me so from the get-go. And of course every one of the teams negotiating with me, the ones offering the stars and the moon, were trying to use me, too. Everybody in the league knew, on some level, that was the deal. It's what I had signed up for on draft night when I accepted that fucking hat from the Lone Stars.

I'd let myself get lost in it, though. All wrapped up in the trips, the beautiful hotels, the nice clothes, the food, the people. I'd fooled myself into thinking... what? That I was getting all of it just because I was so fucking great, I guess. That I was special or important enough to deserve this, and I was learning how to move through these spaces because they were where I belonged. Or even that anybody even cared about me on any level beyond what they could make off of me. That I was a big deal now and I deserved to be the fucking star of the FBA or something.

Unbidden, I thought back to what Cassius had said in Singapore, about the Williamsons and their mysterious, disappeared child. The one that wasn't shaping up to be what they wanted, or what would benefit them the most. The way they had cut that kid loose, like she never even existed.

This wasn't my world. I didn't know my way around. I was a dumb kid who couldn't even handle himself, let alone lead a team.

And I'd let him fool me into fucking kissing him.

The thoughts weren't as clean or clear as that. It was a lot of circling around, echoing back, bouncing from place to place. Soon enough, though, it all faded into a constant, low level of grey buzz in my head repeating the same thing over and over again.

I was so fucking stupid.

Somewhere deep in the apartment, I heard a door open. I could just hear it over the gentle falling of water. A voice called out. "Mr Lavoie-Williams? I have your iced tea. Should I leave it by the couch?"

I stood, and then fumbled to turn off the shower. I stood in the steam for a few moments, then called out, my voice echoing back at me. "Uh. Yeah, please."

"Excellent. Mr Loughty requested that a car be made ready for you. Do you know when you'll be ready for it?"

I stared straight ahead at the wall for what felt like a long time before I responded. "Uh. Could we have it go somewhere else?"

"Certainly. Where do you need to go?"

"The airport, please."

"Of course." No hesitation, no question in the tone of his voice. I don't know what I wanted. For him to ask if I was sure? To sound like he was curious about what was going on? No. I was just another wealthy guest that was supposed to be above his questions, who would get him fired on the spot if he did ask. They would just replace him within the hour with someone new, like he never existed.

He went on. "When do you think you'll need the car?"

"An hour."

"Of course, Mr Lavoie-Williams."

I listened as he walked out of the suite, then grabbed a towel.

An hour later, I had packed up all of my things. I left the outfit I'd picked out for the tournament on the bed. I made my way down the elevator with my suitcase, then slid into the back of the Rosewood car. The driver pulled away from the hotel and started driving without any instruction from me.

I pulled out my phone, and brought up my messaging app. I scrolled through it slowly, until my finger landed on the record for Callum. I opened it, and looked at the last time we'd messaged each other. It was an exchange before the party in Florida, figuring out some logistics. Before that, it was back in June in Montreal.

I sighed, and then typed out a message.

Hey. I'll be back in town late tonight I think. Could we grab dinner? Don't tell my moms.

Once that was finished, I checked again to make sure that the window to the front seat was sealed. Then I scrolled through my contacts until I found Mackie's number.

I called before I could stop myself. My entire body felt numb as I waited through the rings. Once he picked up, I spoke.

"Hey Mackie. Yeah, good to hear your voice, too. Uh, look. Are you somewhere private? We need to talk."