“Well, shit. We’ll see about that – veeeery soon.” He snickered and folded his arms over his chest, shoulder propped against the door frame. How could it be that, even after all these years, Ryder barely looked a day over his teen years? Age seemed to serve him well. “Never been better, man. How about you? You haven’t been landin’ yourself in detention still, riiiight?”
“Who, me?” Office chair squeaking as he leaned back and set down his papers, Ryder arched a brow at Bandit. A faint trace of a smile remained on his lips and lit his eyes. “Detention? I think I’m more in the habit of handing out detention slips these days. Not that I’m not incredibly fond of all those memories I harbor of the two of us, scheming our next adventure in the middle of Saturday School.”
