Cash flicked the lock in the door. (He picked the lock to this office not-infrequently, but as far as he knew he was the only one to do so, and it could not hurt to have an additional filter between this room and the outside world. He didn't think anyone would guess here as the first place he'd flee — they may check the rafters he sometimes smoked in first — but again, it couldn't hurt.)

Gallivan was wry and grinning at him and that was fine, Cash could manage that as long as the surprise-planning Miss Cecily Gallivan wasn't stashed in a desk drawer.

"No plans," Cash said, managing his own sheepish grin — this was what he wanted, no plans and nothing to reflect on here, like it was just another Tuesday. He felt like he would have known anyways — it was like his body knew it was approaching even has he tried to ignore it — but. No real plans. He wasn't sure if it was mercy from his stepmother or an oversight, but there wasn't anything marking today.

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