“Just don’t sneak off again,” Bluebell grinned before taking a sip of his coffee.

“No!” She huffed. “I’m making it up to you.”

“Partially, but that works,” Julia said. “You mind showing him to his room?”

Phoebe stood to take Kirk’s suitcase, but he stopped her. “I can do it.”

He grabbed the handle and let her lead the way upstairs. When they reached the bedroom, she unceremoniously shoved her pajamas into her backpack as Kirk pulled a hefty laptop out of his shoulder bag. It made Phoebe yearn for hers, which was boxed up and sitting somewhere at Stern’s.

“I’m sorry about, well, you having to come down here,” she said.

Kirk’s glasses swayed from side to side. “It’s Abigail’s fault. But,” he booted the laptop up, “that bitch never revoked my access to OO’s file storage, so I was able to get my revenge on the train.”

Phoebe wondered what he meant by that, and had the inclination that she should finish up. Once her backpack was zipped shut, she said goodbye to him and walked out. The only reply was the sound of the door shutting almost immediately after she crossed the threshold. Her ears flattened.

He was absent for the rest of the afternoon. Even as sunset began to shine though the blanket of gray clouds–when she went to fetch spare blankets for the couch–the only indications of him were the rapid clicking sounds of his keyboard and mouse.