I need to know EVERYTHING about the fire marshal Tommy story. I need more crumbs. Please. I'm starving.
“What’s with the face?” Ravi asked.
Buck looked up from his phone, startled, and shoved it back in his pocket. “Oh, uh. Nothing.”
“It’s never nothing,” Ravi sat down next to him. “What’s up?”
Buck sighed. “Chim saw Tommy today, he’s working at the Fire Marshal’s office and I don’t know why and I'm wondering if I should text him.”
“When’s the last time you talked to him?”
Buck looked away sheepishly. “Uh, the funeral?”
“Dude,” Ravi sighed. “I really thought you were going to figure things out after that night at the bar.”
“It was more the morning after that was the problem,” Buck mumbled, blushing.
“Didn’t need to know that,” Ravi muttered. “So, you’re just going to text him after almost a year of no contact and say hey what’s up?”
“More like ‘Hey heard something might have happened, are you okay?’, but like, worded… better…” Buck said, trailing off at Ravi’s withering look.
“Bold thought, but maybe you just take him some of the sadness muffins you’ve been baking and talk to him in person?”
“They're not sadness muffins!”
“Trust me, they are,” Ravi told him. “We can workshop it.”
“I thought you said I needed to stop polling people about my decisions,” Buck said.
“I’m not being polled, I’m intervening,” Ravi said.
