Kalina called on a Thursday and didn't even say hello.
"Lunch tomorrow. Town. Wear something that isn't a farm shirt." Then the line went dead in his ear. She always killed the call the second she'd said her piece, a habit she'd had the whole five years he worked under her and apparently took with her everywhere.
Eren stood in the farmhouse kitchen looking at the dead phone in his hand.
That's not a date and it's not a delivery. So what the hell is it..
He found out about thirty seconds later when she messaged him one line. One of them wants to meet you. I couldn't keep saying no without it starting to look like an answer.
He read it twice and his good mood about the new shotgun license walked quietly out the window and didn't bother closing it behind itself.
He was still frowning at the phone when a wooden spoon tapped him on the back of the head. Not hard. Just enough.
