Page 67 of Black Reign

VESPER: Your friends are animals.

GHOST: Accurate.

I hesitate.

Then:

VESPER: How bad is the hangover?

His answer takes longer.

GHOST: Offensive.

I grin.

VESPER: Deserved.

GHOST: Also accurate.

I picture my imaginary Italian hacker sitting somewhere with black coffee, hair disordered, possibly regretting every decision from the previous evening.

Warm kitchen.

Stone house.

His mother somewhere nearby yelling that he should eat something.

Ridiculous.

GHOST: You reread the conversation.

My smile disappears.

I look around as though he might somehow be standing outside the café.

VESPER: Why would you think that?

GHOST: Because you've been online for nine minutes without saying anything.

I glance at the timer.

Nine minutes.

Twenty-three seconds.

Annoying man.

VESPER: Maybe I was busy.

GHOST: In NULL?

VESPER: Maybe I enjoy staring at your name.

I send it before thinking.

The typing indicator stops.

For several seconds, nothing.