From somewhere behind them, a nasal, delighted voice cut through the night air.
"Oh dear. Is someone in trouble?"
Quinn Carter emerged from the general direction of the dormitory with the unhurried swagger of a man arriving at a show he'd purchased front-row tickets to.
"You actually messed with Vivian Reeves?" He clasped his hands behind his back, grinning. "You're getting expelled, aren't you? Oh, that's wonderful. That's really just, that's perfect. You deserve every bit of this."
He was practically glowing.
"Stupid," Stan said flatly, and walked past him without breaking stride.
Quinn's grin didn't waver. He fell into step behind Stan at a safe distance, determined to witness whatever came next.
Stan reached the parking structure where the Huracán was waiting. He dropped into the driver's seat, closed the door, and sat in the dark for a moment, thinking.
Then he called Grayson Davies.
The chairman picked up on the second ring.
