The Horseboys Use the Phone (Paris/Karl) R

Karl: I have slept the clock around since I got home yesterday morning. When I wake up, I’m ravenous and I make a pig of myself before I feel better. And I still feel like laying around all day, but first, I've got another promise to keep.

I sort through the pile of papers on my desk, scraps of scribbled notes and receipts and such. My arm twinges, the pain stinging as the bandages pulling against the raw skin. But I ignore it, until I find what I'm looking for . . . a cell phone number that I tossed on the desk in anger months ago.

Paris and I started a tentative friendship, when we thought we were free of our horseboys for good, but now . . . I sigh. I don't know if he's up for the bullshit, but I promised Éomer I would arrange it.

( I dial the number. This feels so bloody weird, like I'm setting up a date for my slightly homely daughter or something. )

Dave gets the news

"Dave, I need doctoring again."
I didn't want to do it, but I had to