Alex wakes up to the sound of George’s voice, a soft hum in their otherwise quiet room. For a moment it feels more like the end of a pleasant dream, but as his brain slowly unscrambles George’s words he’s almost tempted to pull the blankets over his head and fall back asleep.
“...Yes, of course, that’s fine — email it over. I’ll come in late tomorrow to go over the plea bargain, so get Jay on my calendar — yes, we should be back in the city by the early afternoon — yes, 4 o’clock will work.”
It’s disorienting, at first, as he rolls off his stomach and onto his back. The curtains are still drawn over their windows, blocking out the sun, but George is fully dressed and leaning back against the headboard with a hardback book open in his lap, phone pressed to his ear. He gives Alex an apologetic smile, holding up one finger and mouthing, ‘Gilbert.’











