neck. “So you saw Thatcher?” He reroutes the topic back to me. “Oui.” I sip my lukewarm coffee. “We just naturally ran into each other, but he was…a little…well, he was slightly naked.” “Naked?” Farrow repeats, his brown brows spiking. “Moretti? The fucking hall monitor?” Maximoff scrunches his face. “What the fuck is slightly naked?” “Chest high. He was in a towel,”
