A super casual week of prompts and creations designed to celebrate and appreciate the characters Andrew and Aaron Minyard from the All for the Game trilogy by Nora Sakavic.
Oh. When does it happen?
We’ll hunt down posts to reblog along the days November 4th - November 10th, leaving just over a month for creating!
Any rules?
Our rules and regulations page has been edited this year but overall hasn’t changed; we still welcome content of any kind - any rating, kink, or medium - as long as you tag your work appropriately.
You are not required to create content for each and every day - or create content at all! You can participate in the appreciation by sharing, reblogging, giving kudos, and commenting.
For the creative participants, check here for minimum requirements: [mobile] [desktop]
You said prompts - what prompts?
Glad you asked! Check them out via the following links: [mobile] [desktop]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Relationships: Aaron Minyard & Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Characters: Andrew Minyard, Aaron Minyard, Neil Josten
Tags: Twinyard Week, POV Neil Josten
Series: Part 3 of an oath in blood
Neil watches Andrew and Aaron learn how to be brothers, slowly.
Okay so here is going to be my one and only entry for @twinyardsappreciationweek -- not because I didn't want to!! I just.. life happened and so I only actually got the first one done and then I went back and forth about posting it for several days because my anxiety is off the charts this week (huh I wonder why??)
So ANYWAY! This is my "Hellos", a first meeting between Aaron and Andrew in an AU that takes what I like about His Dark Materials and ignores what I've forgotten about it because I honestly haven't read the books in 15 years. Please forgive me for making up the rules as I go along. You do not need to be familiar with The Golden Compass/Northern Lights/His Dark Materials in order to understand or enjoy this AU because.. well, like I just said, I kinda kept the "soul animal" bit and decided to make up the rules for the rest as I went along. Feel free to ping me in messages or send me an ask if you have any questions.
------
“You’re biting your nails all the way down again.” Stella’s voice was quiet in Aaron’s ear. She was currently balanced on his shoulder where she could see the whole room while also being well out of trampling-range of larger daemons and their people.
“No I’m not,” he grumbled, but snatched his fingers away from his mouth because yes - he was. “And don’t hedgehogs have terrible eyesight? How would you even know?”
Stella huffed, and the small snap of her breath tickled his ear, making him twitch. “I don’t know where you heard that, but I can see just fine, thank you very much.”
“If you say so,” Aaron relented -- not because he actually believed her but because he was too distracted to engage in their usual bickering. There was nothing interesting about the room they were sitting in. It was empty of anyone besides him and his uncle and their daemons, neither of which were very large, and was painted a pale blue offset by a dark gray shallow carpet that made Aaron feel like he was sitting in the waiting room of a dentist’s office rather than a juvenile detention center. Still, despite the general blandness of their surroundings, Aaron’s mind was busy.
After all, today he was going to be meeting his brother. His long-lost brother. His long-lost twin brother.
Yeah, mindfuck right?
Twice already his uncle had shot him a look for the way his knee kept bouncing with jittery nerves, but it’s not like he could help it. It just wasn’t every day that you found out that you had a long-lost twin. That you got to meet that long-lost twin, especially after they’d initially told you to piss off.
Well, more or less.
Andrew’s letter back to him had been more like, Aaron, back the fuck off. Stay far the fuck away until you hear from me. I’m fucking serious. -- A.
No, really. That’s exactly what it said. Aaron had read it so many times that he’d memorized it, first because he couldn’t believe that he’d gotten a letter back, then because he couldn’t believe his brother was such an unrepentant asshole, and then because he couldn’t help but notice that they both wrote their lower-case ‘a’s the exact same way.
That was almost two months ago. Mom had absolutely freaked out and moved them across the damn country within a couple of weeks of the whole ‘Andrew Situation’ coming to light, and if it had been up to her Aaron definitely wouldn’t be here now. Except Uncle Luther, for all that he was a gigantic flaming dickhead, wasn’t quite as willing to let it go. Then, last week, he’d gotten a letter back from Andrew. All it had was an address to a juvenile detention center.
And so here he was, ready to meet his twin brother, and he felt so many things about it that he didn’t even know how he was really feeling.
“Luther Hemmick and Aaron Minyard?”
Aaron jumped at the voice and looked over at the stout man who had just entered the room. He wore a white coat like some kind of doctor and looked weirdly buff for also being old and balding.
Beside him, his uncle stood up, his pomeranian daemon trotting out from where she’d been curled under his chair. Aaron scooped Stella off his shoulder and returned her to her preferred nest inside the pocket of his hoodie as he joined his uncle. He tried to mimic his uncle’s superior sort of calm as he trailed after the two men, passing through the security door and down the narrow tiled hallway into what looked like some kind of common room.
Aaron had expected it to look like the rooms inmates talked to their families on tv, with two-way glass and phones so that you could talk to the person on the other side. He’d expected a lot of cold steel and white stone walls, with all the kids in matching gray jumpsuits or something.
Instead, they were in what looked like a giant living room. There were several couches and tables, a television with a few different video game systems, and a tall shelving unit filled with board games. There were teenagers lounging on the couches or at the tables, one or two of them apparently also visiting with family. Aaron didn’t spend all that much time scoping out the other kids, though, because on his first scan of the room his gaze settled on a blond boy sitting in the bay window with a fucking lion stretched out on the floor beside him, a living, breathing, tooth-filled barrier between him and the rest of the room.
Andrew.
Their little party had stopped just inside the door and Aaron was distantly aware of the warden or the principal or the doctor or whatever the fuck he was telling Uncle Luther about the facility. He couldn’t focus on them enough to actually retain the specifics though, not when he saw Andrew.
It was so… so fucking weird. He was there. Right fucking there. His brother, and they were identical. Okay, so, not completely identical. Andrew’s hair was longer than his own, and since the kids here were apparently allowed to wear street clothes he was wearing black jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt (which was neither a gray jumpsuit nor anything that Aaron would typically wear -- he preferred normal jeans and band t-shirts, thanks). There was also something… colder about him that Aaron didn’t know how to feel about but definitely seemed to match the two brief letters he’d gotten from him.
The lion lifted her head and looked right at him, fixing him with an eerie amber stare he felt both trapped and analyzed by. It was not comfortable and it took all of his willpower not to squirm. As it were, he ended up fully flinching when their guide called out a bit too loudly from a bit too close to him.
"Andrew! Come say hello, your family is here to see you."
Andrew, who up until this point had been reading a book like he hadn't known they were there at all, just… continued to read. He didn't look up, didn't even seem like he'd heard him at all.
The man sighed and gave them an apologetic look. "Sorry, he's, well. He's a bit antisocial."
"Hm." The disapproving sound from Uncle Luther had Aaron glancing over at him and he didn't really like the calculating look on his face. It would be utter bullshit if he finally got a brother only for his uncle to make it so he ended up getting shipped off to military school or something.
Rather than wait around for the adults to come up with some stupid way to attempt to make Andrew bow to their will, Aaron rubbed his thumb reassuringly over Stella's head where she was huddled in his pocket and strode forward with far more confidence than he actually felt. He stopped several feet in front of the lioness and tried not to be intimidated by her. Logically he knew that she wasn't a fully grown lion yet, that she was an adolescent to match her human's age, but Aaron had always been uneasy around daemons who had settled into big predators. Maybe it was because his own daemon was so small and he was protective of her -- or maybe it was some deeper instinct he wasn't ready or able to interpret yet. Either way, he ended up having to keep both hands in his pockets to hide their shaking. He couldn't steady both them and his voice at the same time, and he needed his voice to be steady.
"Hey,” he said -- and yes, his voice for that whole one word was very steady. Maybe even casual. Fuck yeah.
The lion, who had watched him throughout his entire approach, flicked her ears -- but he had no idea what emotion that was supposed to be.
For a moment, Aaron thought that was all he was going to get. Then he saw Andrew sigh and resolutely dog-ear the page he was on before closing the book and setting it down on the windowsill. He looked over at him, just with a flick of his eyes at first and then by turning his head. Aaron kept perfectly still and had the distinct impression he was being judged or evaluated somehow. It was really uncomfortable and also kind of annoying, but the hard stare of the other boy matched that of the lioness a bit too closely for Aaron to be willing to call him out on it just yet.
Instead, he waited, and he used the opportunity to look at his brother too. He wasn’t really looking for anything in particular, he just wanted to know him. He wanted to know what his life had been like and his favorite music. He wanted to know if he and his daemon had played the same sort of ‘what if’ games that he and Stella had growing up. He wanted to know if Andrew had always wished for a brother too, and if he’d grown up feeling like something was missing only to feel all the pieces click into place the second he found out that he had a twin. None of these were things he’d be able to learn just by looking at him, but looking was a start -- and it could tell him other things.
For one thing, he could tell that Andrew liked to read, right? There was the book he’d been reading -- it had been a thick one and he’d seemed really into reading it. He clearly didn’t like adults, since he’d ignored the big guy when he’d called out to him (though really, Aaron figured anyone in juvie probably didn’t like adults). He liked the color black..?
Look, it was a start.
Somehow, Aaron got the feeling that Andrew was able to read more on him than he was able to read on Andrew; or maybe that was just his own frustration at being able to pick out so little. Either way, it was irritating when Andrew nodded a few moments later like he’d made some sort of decision or something. Andrew looked past him then to where Uncle Luther was still speaking with the guy in charge and the casual coolness hardened into something icy with disdain.
Aaron frowned and looked over his shoulder to follow his gaze, but didn’t see anything weird. He looked back at Andrew and said, “So, I’m Aaron…”
Andrew looked at him again, his expression a blank mask. “Clearly.”
Aaron’s temper arrived unannounced and uninvited, but that wasn’t altogether that strange. “I thought you wanted me to come. Isn’t that why you sent the address? If you’re just going to be a big dick about it you could have saved us both the trouble.” He snapped the words out without repent, lifting his chin and glaring down at his brother before he remembered there was a lion between them with sharp teeth and man-shredding claws.
Neither Andrew nor his lioness daemon seemed offended by his little outburst, though. If anything, Andrew looked amused. His mouth quirked a little on the side, almost like a smile -- or like, maybe he had an itch or something.
“Where’s your daemon?” he asked then, familiar-but-not hazel eyes scanning the immediate area then glancing backward toward the window. Most buildings were designed for the ease of use for both humans and their daemons, but some larger daemons preferred to stay outside but close-by rather than squeezing into tighter quarters. Larger daemons also tended to have a larger range away from their person, as well. Aaron wasn’t sure how far he could get from Stella. He honestly didn’t like the idea of her not being physically on him most of the time, so he was glad she was small enough to do so.
Aaron cupped his hand in his pocket and she cuddled into it so he could pull her out.
Andrew looked at her, then to him. “She’s cute.”
From most people, that would probably be some kind of an insult, but Aaron got the very weird sense that Andrew was being genuine. It threw him off enough that he just blinked stupidly for a moment before saying, “Uh… thanks. Yeah, she is.”
Instead of responding, Andrew stood up and strode past him. Aaron quickly stepped out of the way as the lioness rose fluidly to move with him.
“And where do you think you’re going, Andrew?” the big guy who’d showed them in said with a false lightness.
“Outside.” He looked over his shoulder then, and Aaron realized a half a second before Andrew continued speaking that he was being invited along. “My brother and I have about fourteen years of catching up to do.”
Aaron’s heart did a traitorous little leap in his chest. He looked down at where he was still holding Stella up in an open palm. She gave him an encouraging nuzzle and Aaron hid a grin as he hurried to follow his brother. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen from here on out -- but he was suddenly sure that no matter what, he and Stella wouldn’t be alone anymore.
It’s Andrew’s 33rd birthday and of fucking course his team has an away game against the New York Hawks. On a Monday, for fuck’s sake. What are the chances?
Andrew would be livid, but he’s always claimed he doesn’t care about his birthday so it’s not like he can pull a no show on the game just because it’s his bday. His captain - who he shares an apartment with and also happens to be his husband - would just kill him
Neil might have also bribed him with a promise of chocolate ice cream for dinner, a bottle of quality whiskey and some other things Andrew shouldn’t be thinking about right now if he wants to keep the Hawks from scoring on him.
Andrew starts thinking that maybe, maybe, playing a game on his bday might have its pros when they win 11-4 (see what I did there?) and Neil, who has scored 7 of those goals, is so exhilarated he jumps straight into his arms and kisses him on the court. Right in front of everyone.
He kisses his sweaty brow (disgusting), his jaw, his nose, his lips. And between the kisses he whispers “happy birthday drew”. Andrew tells him it’d be, a happy birthday, if he wasn’t playing exy. Or if they’d lost the game.
But Neil doesn’t believe his words for a second. Andrew glares at him, but still he lets Neil take his hand and drag him to the locker rooms.
What Andrew hadn’t expected was to find Aaron, Katelyn and their 5-year old twins Alex and Ava waiting for him outside the stadium.
Maybe he should’ve see it coming, they live in New York after all.
And it’s not like he and Aaron don’t usually wish each other happy birthday, they’ve come a long way from their first sessions with Bee, but it’s usually nothing more than a skype call.
When Aaron sees him approach them he just says “we came because the twins wanted to see uncle Andrew and uncle Neil play.” And then he shrugs and before Andrew has time to process what’s going on he has an armful of children jumping on him and almost toppling him over.
He just doesn’t get why these two pests won’t understand that normal people would never even touch him, let alone expect to be hugged by him. But he does, hug them. And Aaron, the bastard, smiles at him.
When Katelyn finally manages to pry Alex and Ava from him, they head to a restaurant for dinner. True to his word, Neil lets him order only ice cream topped with whipped cream and more ice cream.
(Neil also snaps a photo of his ice cream and sends it to Kevin, knowing full well that it will make a vein pop in his head)
Andrew thinks that even if he doesn’t care about his birthday, he maybe likes this one.
He’s about to stuff his face with ice cream, Kevin is pissed off with him somewhere out there, Aaron is smiling at the twins while they sing happy birthday to their dad and Neil’s hand is squeezing his thigh under the table.
Maybe, but just maybe, having an away game in New York on his birthday isn’t so bad.
Later that night Andrew’s phone pings with a text notification from Aaron. It’s a photo of the two of them sitting next to each other at the restaurant. Aaron has the twins sitting on his lap, Alex sleeping peacefully on his shoulder and Ava eating ice cream from Andrew’s spoon.
Aaron is glaring at him, pissed because he’ll never get her to sleep now that Andrew has given her sugar for dinner. Neil, right in the corner of the photo is staring at them, not even trying to hide the huge grin on his face.
And Andrew, Andrew looks as bored as always, but his face is softer. Around the mouth and around the eyes. No one would even notice but Aaron probably does, that’s why he sent the photo.
The text the photo came with says “happy birthday asshole”.
@twinyardsappreciationweek Day 1 - Misunderstandings
AO3 Series
Aaron Minyard had a class to get to, and he didn’t know why the fuck he was here, waiting in line in the cafeteria with a strange, redheaded, scarred man who’d called, “hey,” sidled up to stand much too close beside him, and started holding his hand for no apparent reason.
Aaron, of course, immediately withdrew his hand and glared, and the man’s inexplicably fond gaze melted into surprised confusion.
“Who the hell are you?”
“I — Neil. Andrew, we’ve been dating for months.”
If Katelyn could see Aaron now, she’d joke that his sneer could get stuck that way. But she would also probably just keep holding this guy’s hand, to be polite. So, whatever. “I’m not Andrew, idiot.”
Neil’s eyes widened as he searched Aaron’s face, pulling back. “No…you’re not.”
“You don’t even know the face of your own boyfriend?” Aaron turned to where the vegetarian dish had opened up, hastily shoving helpings onto his plate. The quicker he could get away from this guy, the better.
“I guess not…”
Aaron only spared one last contemptuous glance at Neil as he walked away, but he felt Neil’s thoughtful gaze burning on his back all the way across the caf floor.
-
Andrew Doe had a class to get to, and he didn’t know why he was here, on the receiving end of a far-too-warm smile from the coffee shop barista who was mixing his hot chocolate as she called him…baby.
“I’m surprised, baby. You never ask for sweet drinks.” She curled a stream of whipped cream into the foamy chocolate and slid it across the counter to him. Her nametag read Katelyn. He thought that maybe Katelyn should mind her own business and leave him alone. “Not that you need any extra sweetness, though.”
She was much taller than he was, and could actually lean across that counter, which she proceeded to do, lips puckered, like she was going to drop a kiss on him — he stopped her with a hand directly to her upturned button nose.
“A-Aaron?” she faltered, and he narrowed his eyes at her.
“I am not Aaron.”
Her jaw worked in shock, speechless, and she stared him up and down. “But…but you look…you’re just like…”
Andrew left her to her life-questioning-meltdown that seemed to be brewing. He had other things to do.
-
“Andrew?”
Andrew flipped the page of his criminal justice textbook and hummed quietly. Neil was spread across his couch, fiddling with his half-worn-down sneakers for track, like he thought duct tape would actually fix the holes. It was dark outside, and raining, and this was the kind of cozy routine they had. In a while, Neil might pull out his calculator and start tapping away at it while he worked on his own math assignments, and the persistent clicking and the patter on the roof might lull Andrew into enough of a peace that he would convince himself and Neil to put everything away, turn on the TV, and pull a blanket around them both until they nodded off.
“Do you have any family?”
Andrew stilled, felt a tremor in his hands as they paused in their following of the line of text. Neil and him did not talk about family. They both knew without sharing details that the other had had enough of “family.”
“No.”
“You don’t…” Neil sat up now, to look at him. He sounded apologetic, but urgent. Andrew wouldn’t return the gaze. “You don’t have…a brother, maybe?”
“I’m a fucking abandoned foster child, Neil. And I don’t have anyone I’d count as a goddamned brother.”
“I just —” Neil’s voice was faint, spoken into the back cushion of the couch. “I saw someone who looked…just like you, today.”
“Isn’t that fun,” Andrew bit out.
Neil looked at him, and Andrew stared unseeingly at his book, and when the silence snapped, the tension was too much, Andrew slammed his book shut and went into his bedroom, wrapping his sheets around himself until he could not hear the rain, or maybe the beginning of calculator keys being pressed, or the sound of Neil’s quiet feet when he came in and knelt down next to the bed. He heard the mumbled, “I’m sorry,” and let the hand resting on his blankets stay there, until he was no longer awake to hear his boyfriend’s quiet breaths even out in sleep, too.
-
“Aaron,” Katelyn whispered, and her finger tracing at his chest roused him from almost sleep.
“What,” he mumbled, turning to wrap arms around her, pull her closer. She was very soft and cozily plump, his Katelyn, and always smelled nice. God, he was so fucking lucky…
“Aaron,” she said again, more insistently, and he opened his eyes to frown down at her.
“You didn’t come to the coffee shop today.”
“Was I supposed to?” He let his hand skim her hip, and she swatted at it, laughing quietly.
“No, baby. There was just a man there who was your spitting image, I swear.” She pressed full lips to his chin, and left a smattering of yet more soft kisses across his face, ending with a smooch on the tip of his nose, because she liked when he wrinkled it.
“Huh.” He couldn’t dedicate a ton of brainpower to the thought when the fact that she had scooted up in bed to kiss him meant that her very impressive boobs were right there, but he processed it after a minute. “Wait, what?”
“It was weird. He looked nearly identical to you.” She nestled into his collarbone, and Aaron blinked into the darkness.
“Somebody came up to me and called me a different name,” he offered. “I don’t know who the fuck he was. Tried to hold my hand.”
“You have some kind of doppelganger on campus, huh?” she teased. “We need to find him, line you two up next to each other. You’ll see. It was uncanny.”
Aaron lay awake for much longer than he should have that night, thinking about uncanny resemblances to complete strangers.
-
Andrew did not want to be among a crowd of screaming, jumping people that seemed to be way too invested in sports. Neil, however, was in his track uniform of tight orange shirt and shorts and seemed intent on cheering for some even more sporty friends of his, and Andrew would be damned if he missed the chance to see his boyfriend’s ass in those shorts.
***
Aaron would rather skip this pep rally. He’d never had school pride, he was here to study and make it into med school. But Katelyn was in the mass of cheerleaders shouting and waving their pom-poms down on the field, and he wasn’t gonna be the boyfriend who didn’t show up.
***
Andrew decided halfway through the first quarter of whatever game it was they were playing that nothing was more important than obtaining some terribly sweet and appallingly overpriced snack from the vendors. Neil shook his head, still enthralled with their home team, when Andrew asked if he wanted anything. So down the bleachers he went, catching sight of a cart and attendant down by the front.
***
Aaron has abandoned his seat not long into the game, preferring to lurk behind the cheerleaders’ bench where Katelyn occasionally turned and smiled sneakily at him, even reached up to blow a few kisses at him. He glared at the food vendor who slowly walked past, bellowing snack advertisements and giving him a stink eye. He would stand wherever he wanted to, this wasn’t some professional game. They were in college, for chrissake.
Somebody stopped the vendor right next to Aaron, however, and began ordering what sounded like the entire selection of candy in a remarkably apathetic tone. After the fifth item in the list, Aaron’s jaw twitched and he leaned around the attendant to kindly tell the customer he’d die of a heart condition if he didn’t eat right only —
***
Andrew made eye contact with his slack jawed mirror image and let his own voice peter out.
He did not think Neil was lying. But he had not prepared for…this.
“Asshole twins, huh?” the man holding out the candy to him said, but Andrew shoved the money at the man, snatching his food, and pushed him bodily out of the way.
Aaron — it must be Aaron, that was what Katelyn said — breathed an incredulous, pathetic kind of laugh at the look that the man must have shot his way, and returned Andrew’s gaze, searching and disbelieving.
“Eating that shit’s gonna kill you, you know,” he said, weakly, like he did not care in the slightest.
“I know,” Andrew said, and bit off the end of his Snickers, before offering it to his twin.
Aaron pressed his lips together, to try and fail to suppress a smile, and took it.
Tilda glanced from the dirty dishes in the sink to her son, frowning.
“I told you to wash these, you lazy, good for nothing brat,” she snapped.
“Why should I? They are not mine.”
She reared back, eyes wild. “Since when do you talk back to me, you ungrateful-“
Andrew’s hand whipped up to block the blow meant for his face, squeezing Tilda’s wrist in an iron grip as he spun her around and twisted her arm tightly behind her back.
“You do not know me well enough to speak to me like that,” he whispered directly into her ear.
Tilda froze. “An- Andrew? Let go of my arm, sweetheart. I told Aaron to do the dishes, this is a simple misunderstanding.”
“Oh? The bruises on his back? Were they a misunderstanding? The split lip and black eye when I first got here? Those too, hmmm? By the way, I do not like that word. Stop using it.”
He twisted harder. Tilda yelped and turned her body to lessen the strain. “You’re going to break my arm!”
“Possibly,” Andrew tilted his head and shrugged. He reached into the sink and pulled out a cup half full of cold coffee with cream and held it up toward Tilda’s face. She flinched and leaned her head away as if to avoid a burn.
“Hmmm. What’s this?” he drawled. “Pink lipstick. How very 1950s housewife. I prefer chapstick, myself, and pink is not Aaron’s color.”
He opened his hand and the cup clattered to the floor, splashing both of them as it came to rest on its side. Tilda jolted, but Andrew ignored the mess. He picked up a mostly empty wine glass with the same lip imprint.
“And this? Must taste like shit if you didn't down the whole bottle.” He sniffed. “Ugh, it reeks. I’m a whiskey man myself, given the choice,” he continued conversationally, “and Aaron likes beer, though someone really needs to expand his horizons beyond the cheap, watery piss he buys. Perhaps he shares your pitiful palate.”
The glass tumbled from his hand and broke into large shards and small glittering pieces mixed with random splashes of red. Tilda released a sob and tried to pull away.
“Andrew? Mom?” Aaron stood in the kitchen doorway, nervously twisting the hem of his t-shirt. “What’s going on?”
“Mommy Dearest thought I was her favorite punching bag,” Andrew said, releasing Tilda with a slight forward shove. “She decided you needed a slap across the face, so we've been having a little chat.”
Tilda staggered away from Andrew, cradling her arm, but said nothing.
“Is this about doing the dishes?” Aaron asked, voice cracking, one hand tugging through his hair. “I did them last night like you asked and ran the dishwasher, Mom.”
“It is about Tilda keeping her fucking hands off of you,” Andrew said, pointing at his twin.
He took a step toward their mother; she took a matching step back.
“If you hurt my brother again, you will regret it,” he said softly. “Nod if you understand.”
Tilda nodded yes.
“Do you need me to explain in more detail? Provide you with a list of things that I might do to protect what is mine?” Andrew pulled a razor blade halfway out of his black arm band.
Tilda shook her head no and took another step back.
Aaron approached slowly with a broom, which Andrew took and leaned against the counter.
“We will leave you to clean this up,” he said. “Yes?”
Tilda cleared her throat. “Yes.”
Andrew tapped two fingers to his temple in salute. “Good talk. Let’s go,” he said, tugging Aaron behind him. “We’re finished here.”
