The first case, they don’t talk about it.
Nobody ever talks about it, of course, beyond the legally required questions when you’re hiring: “do you have a stakeholder?” Jancy asks, her eyes soft and kind and the slightest bit calculating. Grendan says no immediately. He doesn’t. He wouldn’t. He’s not ever letting a dog die in his care, and that’s the only animal he’d let himself close enough to for a deal to be set.
“So what if I am?” Rosé asks from where she’s perched on the desk. She’s snickering, but eventually amends as the rest of them keep looking– “but no, I’m not. That’s gross!” Grendan doesn’t quite get her humor, really, but he snickers along with her nonetheless– it’s infectious. She smiles at him, quick and wide and sharp and bright. He smiles back– it doesn’t feel as sharp as hers, for some reason, and she only gets brighter.
York coughs. Grendan looks away.