Ean shook his head and went to the bedroom. “Good grief,” he muttered as he started rummaging through his closet.
“So, how formal do you think it’ll be?” he asked. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a play, and people didn’t really dress up for the ones in college. Well, other than the cast and crew.”
Rachel’s dress probably didn’t qualify as ‘formal’ per se, but she was definitely dressed nicer than Ean usually was. Of course, I also thought it was a pointless question given how unlikely it was that he’d make it to the theater.
Ean froze in the midst of pulling off his shirt. A cool breeze stirred ominously through the open bedroom window. “And why wouldn’t I be making it?” he asked slowly. He checked his mental list. “It’s The Gang, isn’t it? They’re planning to ambush me.”
But Ean had told me too many times that he didn’t want out of character information anymore. So I certainly wasn’t going to tell him that The Gang wasn’t the issue, but a hired assassin was.
“Oh, hell,” Ean muttered. He tugged his shirt back down. “I knew eating at The Family’s Sandwich House when Rachel took me out to lunch was going to come back and bite me in the ass.” He frowned. “And I never opened that window, so whoever’s there: let’s get this over with, shall we? I’ve got plans for the evening, too, and I’d hate to rain check on her again.