Page 143 of Key of Kink

Oliver pointed to Milo. “He plays piano. And guitar. And he sings.”

Quinn’s brow furrowed. “Wait a sec.” Then he beamed. “I thought your face was familiar. There’s a flyer pinned on the library noticeboard. You do gigs in coffee shops and bars?”

Milo nodded, smiling. “I’ve lost count of how many of those things I’ve stuck in coffee shops, laundrettes, post offices, you name it.”

Quinn looked impressed. “Piano and guitar skills and a voice. That’s good. When the apocalypse comes we’ll still have music.”

Milo grinned. “That’s the plan.”

Quinn gave me another sideways glance then gestured towards me. “And Max sings, apparently.”

Theo snorted.

I gaped at him. “Apparently?” I strived to feed as much mock outrage into my voice as I could, which was difficult when I was doing my best not to laugh.

“Well, I knew you sang,” Quinn said. “I didn’t know you did the whole… brooding bass god thing.”

Theo snorted.

I arched my eyebrows. “Brooding bass god?” My lips were still twitching.

Quinn shrugged. “Hey, if the cap fits. You looked very… competent.”

I wasn’t the only one whose lips were twitching.

The table’s occupants howled.

Quinn turned to Zane. “And you?”

Zane took a drink before replying. “I work in my dad’s stationery company.”

Quinn stared. “Stationery stationery?”

“Yes.”

“Pens? Paper? Staplers?”

“Yes.” Zane groaned. “I hate it.”

Quinn tilted his head sympathetically. “Have you considered a life of crime?”

“Frequently. But at least I don’t live with my parents anymore.” Zane glanced at Milo and Finnley. “These guys threw me a lifeline.”

Quinn pointed his glass around the table. “Okay, we’ve established Elliott runs a coffee empire, Finnley is a workaholic, Milo is… talented, and Zane is trapped in a stationery dystopia. What about the rest of you?”

Liam raised his hand. “I’m a nurse.”

Quinn blinked. “Oh.”

Liam took a drink. “Yeah, that’s usually the reaction I get. I work in A&E.” He smiled. “So compared to that, this lot are extremely manageable.”

“You’re a trauma nurse?” Quinn said. Liam nodded. “That must be… intense.”

“Sometimes.” Another smile. “After a twelve-hour trauma shift, listening to a cappella arguments about tempo is oddly relaxing.”

“So when people say they’ve had a rough day…”

Liam nodded again. “I’ve usually seen worse.”