[Dennis hadn't forgotten about Kavinsky, but he's still surprised to see this. He stares at his phone, wondering if he should even reply. Replying in any way would validate his guess or however he figured it out... but not saying anything could do just the same.
Fucked either way. There's a little curl of dread pooling in his gut as he types a reply before hitting send.]
what do you want
[It's meant more in a way to brush him off, sound like it doesn't bother him.]
no subject
Fucked either way. There's a little curl of dread pooling in his gut as he types a reply before hitting send.]
what do you want
[It's meant more in a way to brush him off, sound like it doesn't bother him.]