Well then. Better to rip off the bandaid. It comes out slowly, like pulling shards of glass from an inflamed wound. "He knew. About the accident. Buck's involvement. Knew, lived around me, worked with me, and didn't tell me. Kind of had a recording of the incident shoved in my face with Buck standing two feet to my left after...a long, stressful, fucked up week. Didn't take it well. Kind of sore at him, still. Ish? A little. We said clean slate but I'm not sure I can manage that the way he needs me to."

But he wants to try.

"You should lie down. I think the next bed's empty?"