But that was Monday. Today was Friday, and right now, Mal had no new messages from Danny and nothing else to occupy his time.
Maybe Big Trouble in Little China. It never failed to amuse Mal when Kurt Russell got knocked out by falling ceiling debris at the start of the final battle and only really contributed at the very end.
A gust of wind made him shiver.
Wait. Gust of wind?
Bolting off the couch, Mal whirled around to take in his apartment. No one. Everything in its place. The door was still closed, but—there. The rug. It was folded up as if someone had just walked over it.
“Sparky?” Mal called, relaxing marginally, but a little on edge since he couldn’t see Danny and wondered where he could be hiding. Maybe he was feeling coy and had lightning jumped upstairs to undress and wait for Mal on the bed. Mal didn’t care for surprises, but he wouldn’t turn his nose up at a gift like that.