“Eh.” Stevie shrugs. “Angry, tight-ass academics aren’t exactly my type. Especially ones as ancient as Devane. He’s gotta be, what, pushing fifty?” I laughed, wishing Cass was here for this. Sonofabitch could stand to be knocked down off his high horse once in a while. “Don’t let him hear you say that. He’ll fail your ass for sure.” “Seriously. How old is he, anyway?” she presses. I narrow my eyes. Does she actually like that motherfucker? “Seventy-five,” I say quickly. “Actually, closer to eighty, but we all round down to be nice.”
