Vince was surprised to see Thomas waiting for him, the caramel-skinned fellow student patiently positioned outside of the gym. Despite his claims that he held no ill-will toward Vince from their earlier encounters, the two hadn’t spoken as much during the semester’s first weeks. It could have been time constraints, with training and a new job Vince certainly had less available, but something told him there was more to it.
Mr. Transport had the fork, laden with pasta and sauce, halfway to his mouth when his phone rang. This was not the ringtone he used for his general calls, nor the flippant one he’d assigned Mr. Numbers, nor even the festive one he had rigged to ring when Sally Daniels called him. This was a ringtone associated with a single number, a line only used in very certain circumstances. His fork clattered to the plate as Mr. Transport grabbed his phone from his pocket and put it to his ear.