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“I don’t get it,” Libertus said, staring at Nyx’s phone in absolute bewilderment.
On screen, a picture of two forks, a mug and a shoe was proudly displayed like… well, like it meant something. It was a very crisp, very purposeful kind of shot, like someone had clearly set it up exactly as it came out. Which was insane, because it was a pair of forks, crossed at the teeth, and that ugly fucking mug Nyx won in a raffle a few years back. It read: Statistically Unlikely Survivor, which, despite being a perfect descriptor for Nyx, actually referred to an old TV series and the main character’s catchphrase.
The shoe was just weird, honestly.
Nyx continued to wheeze in the background, face buried in his hands as he muttered soft, adoring quips about the surprisingly elusive blond he happened to be married to.
Crowe shook her head.
“I think we’re better off that way.”