Byron was in the middle of trying to assess the value of his slowly growing stock portfolio when he was interrupted by the doorbell. He was expecting a courier from the office, but it was his old friend, Nathan.
“Hey, come in,” Byron said crustily.
“You’re being turtle-y again,” Nathan stated, making himself comfortable on the living room couch. “You won’t take my calls, and you barely reply to my texts.”
“Maybe your texts with so-called funny memes can wait while I make life and death business decisions?” Byron said.
“Ouch. Are you saying my texts are not funny?”
“I’m just a little busy.”
“Not too busy to host a whole pack of wild hounds,” Nathan said, patting the two dogs who came over to sniff him.
“I don’t remember the last time I walked my own dogs,” Byron said.
“I know you’re putting your business empire back in order and all that,” Nathan said, pouring himself a drink, “but surely by now you’re back on solid ground?”