tacito.

It rains.
Chimaera and Swivel were supposed to have a date with the basketball hoop today.
Mother Nature's suggested they have a gaming day instead.
They don’t protest.

Swivel tosses aside his controller and cracks open a new can of Red Bull.
Nectar of the gods, that stuff is. He’s sure of it.

“So, The Red Herring?”

Chimaera stretches out on the floor.

“Work is work.”

“I guess.”
Inaudible, the words ‘whatever floats your boat’ hover in the air nearby. 

Chimaera crunches the empty can.

Beat.

Beat.

“So, The Mistress?”

Beat.

“Yeah. I dunno.”

“She’s...”

What are the words?

Swivel knows.

“She is. It’s...”

Maybe there aren’t words.

Chimaera tries again.

“Are you...?”

Swivel shifts. 

“Another round?”

Chimaera studies him. 
A door has closed.

“Bring it.”