Herman Hawthorne slowly turned and met Quentin Grant's gaze, just as he'd expected.
He flinched and plopped onto the floor with a THUD. Swallowing hard, he said, "Quentin, you move like a ghost. I didn't hear you come down at all."
Quentin Grant pulled out a chair, and he and Nora Ainsworth sat down at the dining table.
"If I hadn't come down, I never would have known you think I'm the kind of guy who'd screw an animal, would I?"
Herman Hawthorne shot a harsh glare at Ethan Ellsworth and laughed. "Of course not! I was just using a metaphor. I wasn't actually talking about you."
"That's what I figured."
Herman Hawthorne sat up, took his chopsticks, and viciously jabbed Ethan Ellsworth under the table. Only then did he grin and say, "Quentin, sleep well?"
"Just fine."
"Good. Now that you're here, just make yourself at home. We've been bros for years, no need to be formal. There are three boxes in the drawer, and if that's not enough, there's more in storage."
