While Ean struggled with the realization that he’d somehow gotten a date with Rachel out of the day’s events, one of the Sandwich Place’s other patrons – another old regular – was dealing with a rather shocking (and unfortunately incorrect) realization of his own.
The man had retreated to the bathroom before Ean could spot him. “It’s definitely E,” he hissed into his cellphone. “He’s back in town. And he’s with someone. I think…I think it might be N.” The last was whispered, as though he were afraid “N” might overhear. Which was a valid fear, since “N” was not Rachel. “N” was Ean’s invisible partner form the old days: the oft referenced but never seen dealer in intel…me.
The person on the other end squawked a question, and the man answered.
“I think she might be N,” he said, “because I’ve never seen someone so unnoticeable in my life. Hell, I was just out there watching them, and I don’t think I could describe her to you if my life depended on it.”