Adam crosses the room, sits on the other bed. “She said . . .” He pauses. Hates that he does. Stupid. “Rhodes said that it didn’t want me.” Rao crows with sudden laughter. “Story of your life,” he splutters. It’s weird how quickly Adam forgot how to handle Rao saying things like this. The insults that aren’t quite insults. It’s the purest form of Rao familiarity: find the weak joint and pull until the structure groans into near collapse. Adam isn’t ready for it, this punch to the gut.
