We sift through the other tabloids. Only pictures of Maximoff and Farrow are cut out. “I can explain.” Our heads swerve to our client. Xander stands close, breathing hard. “Those aren’t mine. They’re Kinney’s—she had this great idea for Moffy and Farrow’s Christmas present this year. And it requires that.” He points at the tabloids. I frown, confused as all hell. Donnelly grins. “You’re making a collage?” “Yeah.” Xander cringes. “I know, it’s dumb—” “It’s dope, man.” Donnelly rises with me. “Farrow will love this shit.” He laughs.
