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Walt crouched down on his heels, then stretched up tall, cracking their back.

You gonna tell me how you learned to do that?

I was seventeen and broke in the twenties. Half of us fought for cash. You learned quick if you wanted to keep your teeth.

Hollis laughed. Sometimes you say things and I just imagine Oliver Twist, or, like, Sherlock Holmes.

Psh. That was a completely different time period and country.

Hollis turned over that thought in his head a few times until the edges softened, but the heart of it still pleased him. Walt punching someone for him. Effortless, practiced.

Walt lit another cigarette.

I’m gonna savor these, but I think I deserve another for the wait.

Fine. You fucking hedonist.

Walt sent Hollis a thrill of amusement, and Hollis soothed it back with bitter fondness.

Suddenly there was a tapping sound, like someone was banging glass.

I think that’s coming from upstairs....

Walt looked back at the house. Annie was standing at the top-floor window looking down at them. They waved at her. She didn’t wave back.

Weird.

Well, we can’t go back inside, just text her or something.

Walt: Sorry I missed you. Things got out of hand. See you later.

Annie: It’s okay. See you later.

It doesn’t sound okay.

Annie doesn’t like it when I fight, is all. Take us home.

Walt didn’t hurry, filling Hollis’s lungs so slow and smooth that they ached unpleasantly, and Hollis let him.