“Oh?” Rocco folded Greco-Roman-column arms across his chest. “How do you understand that?” Simon and Ingrid exchanged a glance. “We just heard,” Simon said. “Heard from who?” Someone from the floor yelled, “Whom!” “What?” A white hipster wearing an overgrown soul patch and skinny-legged jeans tucked into faux work boots scrambled to his feet. “Heard from whom, not who. Come on, Rocco. Prepositional phrase.” “Shit, right, sorry.” “You’re better than that, man.”
