“Where’s Noah? I thought you two were joined at the hip these days,” Skye said when Kief walked into the communal living room to flop down at the other end of the sofa.
“He got called into work.”
“At this hour?” Logan gave Kief a puzzled look from the archway. “What does he do?”
“He’s an accountant, and with the end of the quarter plus the end of some of his clients’ fiscal years he’s pretty much at their beck and call.” Kief sighed. “Unfortunately.”
“That’s rough.” Logan shook his head, about to continue on his way upstairs.
“Hey,” Skye called out, “before you vanish, again, who are you other than the mysterious man who lives in the attic?”
Logan paused, chuckled, and told her, “I’m Logan and you must be Skye.”
“I am. Come on in and be sociable. I want to know all about you.”
“Oh that’s really going to make him want to join us,” Kief muttered with a laugh.
After a moment’s hesitation Logan shrugged and came into the room.
“Sit,” Skye ordered with a nod to the chair next to where she sat on the sofa.
“She’s bossy,” Kief pointed out, “but we still love her.”
“Am not,” Skye protested.
Logan watched the interchange with amusement as he sat down. “So what do you want to know?”
“Name, rank, serial number, past history, sexual preferences, all of the above.” Skye grinned at him.
“Humm. Okay. Logan Fitzgerald, low man on the totem pole at the moment, no serial number. Past history? I grew up out west, was studying business management and marketing until I had to drop out a couple of months before graduating.” Before they could ask why, he gave them the same story he’d given all the job interviewers, “I ran out of money and, well…” he shrugged.
“Hey, at least you got close. I never even had the cash to get into college to say the least of making it through four years,” Skye told him with a rueful smile. “So now I’m a secretary.”