Move. Simon!

“And that’s it,” he enquirer of his Assistant Chris, and the imterloper who hadn’t said anything in a bit, “just the Tenderloin?”

“No,” said Jay, “Grove. Right?

“The whole thing. Guys! It’s experimental. Theoretical! The guys a Navy guy. Up and comer. He just-”

Dad waved him off.

“All this thing is is a one way radios with a non commercial band and a remote kill switch.

He reached for it. And a tie. No fedora.

“This is not a gyroscopically stable Presidential Emergency Sacthel communicator. It’s Paul Black’s briefcase!”

“Your stable. If they aren’t.”

“My uncle, your auntie.”

Tumble. Then? Be elsewhere.

“Tie an aqua line.”

“Who turned sixteen,” he said, out the door.

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