“I meant Oscar, Donnelly, Quinn…Akara,” Farrow tells me. “Omega.” I freeze, hand on my mic cord, then surprise leaves me in a breeze. “For Jane,” I realize. Farrow nods. “And you.” It slams me back. Almost hard to believe. Hard to accept. “You’re bullshitting me.” He laughs. “Fuck, I’d come up with better bullshit.”
