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JANE WAITED UNTIL THE door closed before speaking. “If any of them says ‘for the good of the Enclave’—just one more time—I’m going to puke on Darcy’s fake fireplace.”
Don feigned dismay. “And here I told Darcy you were house-broken. Are you trying to make a liar out of me?”
Darcy had departed earlier that morning, like a practiced martyr, on his way to receive a node. Connor became sullen and uncommunicative after his foster father left. The Runners elected to stay out of the young Hoarder’s way, keeping to their spacious and overindulgent room.
“You don’t have to like Darcy.” Don smoothed the silky fabric of his shirt with a look of distaste. “But try to fake it for the good of the team, okay?”
Jane shook an accusing finger at him, fighting back a grin. “I thought you were going to say ‘the good of the Enclave,’ just to see what I’d do.”
“If we’re too friendly, we’d look suspicious.” Garr joined in, grinning at the verbal jousting. “There’s no love lost here—for anyone. I can’t wait to leave the Enclave for the last time, never to return.”
“As we all live happily ever after, in a Giver-free world.” Sheila laughed as she gathered their empty breakfast plates. “One thing I’ll say for our hosts, though—it’s been a long time since I’ve eaten so well.”
“Only because you haven’t tried my cooking yet.” Don adopted a snobbish air. “All else will pale by comparison, I promise. You know, I did sleep well last night, although I’m not sure I want to give the Hoarders credit.”
The door opened, revealing the taciturn Connor.
“Darcy wants to meet us downtown.” He spoke only to Garr. He said nothing else, pivoted on his heel and left. The door closed behind him with a soft click.
Don raised his eyebrows. “Somebody got up on the wrong side of the Enclave this morning.”
The big man glanced at Garr, who shrugged in response. “You heard him. Darcy’s expecting us.”