“So, what do we tell people?”
Casey looked up from his half-finished Pete Sampras story. Dan was sitting, hands folded, elbows resting on his desk, staring at a point behind and just to the right of Casey.
This couldn’t be good.
“What do we tell people?” Casey repeated the phrase, hoping to get some specifics that weren’t the ones he thought Danny was talking about.
“About…this.” Dan unfolded his hands to gesture between himself and Casey.
Casey sighed. “Well, I was thinking we’d announce it on the air,” he said. “You know,
“ He raised his eyebrows at Dan.
“So you think we say nothing?”
“I think we say nothing.” Casey returned to typing.
“I don’t think we say nothing.” Danny was being pensive, and if there was one thing Casey didn’t have time for at 5:30 on a Tuesday, it was a pensive Danny.
“Really,” he responded anyway, because if pensive Danny didn’t get a response, the conversation would only get more serious.
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