By four in the afternoon, Luna had listened to the first twelve seconds of Quiet Years so many times that Wayne came out of the control room and unplugged the studio speakers himself.
He did it gently, which made the betrayal worse.
Luna turned in her chair and stared at the cable in his hand. "That was rude."
Wayne looped the cable once around his palm and leaned against the console. He looked tired. Everyone did. Release day had that effect on people. It turned normal adults into suspicious creatures who refreshed dashboards and argued with clocks.
"You've played it enough times. Now you're just looking for problems. And it's too late for that."
Luna looked toward Dayo, who was sitting near the back of the studio with a notebook open on his lap. "Are you going to let him speak to me like this?"
Dayo did not look up right away. He finished writing something, capped the pen, then gave the room the careful attention of a man who knew both answers were dangerous.
