Chapter 35: Marketing
Richard rolled his shoulders, stretching out the stiffness that had settled in his limbs. His body ached from sitting too long, but his mind was too wired to rest.
The AMFS could wait—it wasn't like it would assemble itself overnight. Right now, there was something more urgent.
The game.
He sighed. Jack hates working alone.
Leaving his room, he stepped into the hallway. The air was cooler out here, the silence of the house making the faint hum of the estate's power system more noticeable. He could hear distant voices—probably from the television in the living room. As he approached the staircase, his path was suddenly blocked.
Estello.
The old man sat comfortably on the couch, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded but still sharp. He barely turned his head, acknowledging Richard's presence with a slow glance.
"Oh, Richie." His voice carried that familiar weight, somewhere between casual indifference and fatherly authority. "I thought I told you to rest?"
Richard scratched the back of his neck. "I can't. I'm too restless doing nothing." He gestured vaguely toward the stairs. "Besides, Jack's alone in the basement."
Estello stared at him for a long moment, unreadable as ever. Then, without another word, he gave a small nod and waved him off.
No lecture. No nagging.