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Summary
Kent can’t help it. He starts to laugh. This whole situation is fucked. He should have stayed in Boston. He should never have left Vegas in the first place. He’d figured it would be awkward to see Jack at the party, but he didn’t think he’d end up freezing to death with the guy in Vermont. He guesses there’s a certain sick poetry to that. Every time he’s made a calculated risk involving Jack, he’s gotten burned. He’s not accounting for all the variables correctly, like the fact that the universe hates him.
“Kent.” Jack’s hand lands heavily on his back. He shakes him. “Come on. Kenny. Get it together.”
“I’m going to kill you,” says Kent, into his hands. “I am literally going to murder you, Jack Zimmermann.”
“No, you’re not,” mutters Jack. “You need me for body warmth.”
Or: Kent gets invited to the book launch for Bad Bob's autobiography. Things don't exactly go as planned.