Bruce is excited. That’s never a good sign.

“The first story’s up.”

“I saw. It’s not finished.”

“But it is. Here’s the beauty. You can write sequels.”

“You know what sequels are, right? You are a fantasy writer.”

“Yes, I know what sequels are," he sighs.

“Good.” I pull up his story. What’s with the stupid pen name? “Here’s the last bit. ‘Tose’s sharp nose flared. He raised his sword aloft. “Never ag.”’”

“Not bad, right?” He couldn’t possibly be proud of it. Right?

“How can there be a sequel when you stopped mid-word?”

His mask slipped. He wore the same expression as when he tried to convince a panel of critics that he wrote literature.

“Did you know that returns count as characters? If I use italics, it uses two. Two! Extra! I write fantasy. I use italics all the time!”

“Bruce…"

“Someone wrote a sequel already. Look at it. ‘The Unfinished Word.’ Regular riot. Well, I’m out. Done.”

“Think of the publicity!”

“Think of your commission.”

He always knows the right thing to say to shut me up.