It was a mild, foggy day in Whitby. Neither hot nor cold. Yet Chris still took a moment to pop his collar with his free arm and air his neck, that feral grin only spreading as he watched his ‘friend’ panic.

“God, I feel like some sort of accomplice!” he laughed, elbowing Darius like he was in on the joke rather than part of it. “You can buy my silence at the pub.”

This was ripe enough to milk for a day or two, after all.