“He’s alright?” Tracy asked, hugging Porkchop.
“He seemed alright…but probably not, because he didn’t want any of my chicken,” Porkchop said.
“This is so exciting,” Trip said, walking around the room, a glow seeming to emanate from him.
“Exciting?” Gary asked. “What’s exciting?”
“Backstage, man,” Trip said enthusiastically. “How many times can you say you’ve been backstage at a Dead show?”
“Ummm…still zero,” Gary said.
“Leave him be,” Tracy said. “At least one of us should be enjoying themselves.”
She smiled. She was relieved to hear her husband was alright, even if he was in a cell, it wasn’t his first time. Doc had been in earlier to tell them how BT was doing. The flat emotionless way he had talked was disturbing. Tracy couldn’t blame him for that, though, not after all he’d been through. That he was still functioning at all was a testament to the strength of his will or his desire for revenge. She hoped for his and Porkchop’s sake it was the former rather than the latter.