Mason
I pull in front of King's house on my bike, the weight of the new phone he asked me to bring tucked in my jacket pocket. It's not often King calls me over, so I assume something serious is going on.
Nobody really ever explains s**t to me, but it's not like I care. Ignorance is bliss, they say. I don't ask questions. I just do what I'm told and try to stay out of the way.
In a way, I see myself as a vault. People come to me with their darkest secrets because "I'm such a good listener," but it's really just because I don't care enough to respond. Still, my memory is annoyingly exceptional, so I'm always gathering new information, filing it away for later.
When I step inside, my eyes instantly land on Alyssa Carter, holding a rather large and alert baby in her arms.
Interesting
