“We appear to be at an impasse.”
“And we’re wasting time.”
“All right, suppose you take care of the waffle, and then we’ll open them at the same time?”
“That’ll work.” The batter hissed as it hit the hot surface. I lowered the lid and turned to face Quinn. “Let’s do it.”
He was meticulous removing the ribbon, sliding a nail to loosen the paper.
“Jesus, Mann, just tear it open, would you?”
“You don’t seem to be in any rush.”
“Fine. You want me to rush, I’ll rush.” I ripped the paper to shreds, revealing a white cardboard box, and I snagged a thumbnail trying to open it. “Fuck.” I stuck my thumb in my mouth and sucked at the scratch. “And I don’t have my pocketknife on me.”
“Well, you don’t have a pocket. Here, use mine.” He handed me the really elegant pocketknife that I’d first see
