“Do you really want it?” I ask Eliot, because if he does—I might be willing to pull my name out of the hat so he can claim the title. “Why not?” Eliot plants a foot on the armrest, propping his elbow on his kneecap. “I could do damage in the corporate world.” A gleam touches his eyes. Ben asks, “By lighting Fizzle on fire?” “Chaos is good for the soul.”
