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“Mark,” Xander corrected, hard. “Job. Pigeon.” “Mmmhmmm,” said the doctor. “And there is no decision regarding what I’m going to do. I’m going to...” What? He was going to what? Bartleby raised his eyebrows, waiting. Xander made a cutting motion across his throat with a hand. “Please,” scoffed the doctor. “You’re not going to hurt a hair on her head.” “I don’t even want to hear your theory on why that might be.” “Because you’re in love with her! Even your Blood knows you’re in love with her! Why don’t you just admit it!” Xander sighed and massaged his temples. “You’re fired.” “Again?” It was a running joke between them. Xander had fired Bartleby at least three dozen times over the last twenty years. It never stuck. The old man had grown on him like a barnacle. In what he hoped w
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