Zeph sent the message to four people on a Thursday morning.
Marcus. Whisper. Tank. And Sarah—who he added to the group chat with a name and no explanation, which produced three separate read receipts and no questions, because the people he was sending it to had all developed, through various routes, the specific quality of not asking questions until they were in the room.
The message said: My apartment. Tonight. Something you need to know.
They arrived within ten minutes of each other. Tank first, as always, because Tank operated on a personal timeline that treated punctuality as a tactical commitment.
Whisper second, notepad in hand. Marcus third with a folder, because Marcus arrived to everything with a folder. Sarah last, which was a three-door walk and still took her seven minutes, which Zeph noted and filed.
