“I don’t think that’s helping, Jet,” Soren says in my ear. “What, you want to help him?” I ask incredulously. “Does he look like someone who’s doing this to spite you? Or to piss you off? He’s clearly hurting.” Harley whines. “Damn it. Why’d your boyfriend have to be nice?” “He’s Canadian. He can’t help it.” “Sorry.” Soren shrugs. “God, he’s apologizing even though I’m in your room all drunk-like and complaining. He really is Canadian.”
