Reiser decided, gesturing towards the dining room. We found it mostly empty due to the relatively early hour.Tom Henry didn't seem to have much of an appetite, naturally, and neither did I, but Mr. Reiser insisted we fill our plates from the buffet, mostly salad for me of course. He told us it would be a long night and it sure felt like it just then. So far as we knew, Tom Henry was still bound for the whipping post and he'd need his strength for that, or so our Master appeared to suggest in a roundabout way."Cockfights tonight," Mr. Reiser said for no real reason that I could tell. He looked at the waiter pouring champagne into a glass for me. "Are they having cockfights tonight?" Yes sir," the waiter replied. "Every Sunday night. Out back in the garner." Huh." My Master nodded and looked at Tom Henry, who was seated between us on my left at the square table. "Do you know about cockfighting?" Yes sir," Tom Henry answered. "I've heard of it before." That's like chickens, right?" I. Yes, he told himself, a good day for one run. And it had been a good one. He took the elevator down to his study, opened his Mac and looked over his morning emails, saw a new script had been sent along from his agent and frowned. He read the message, groaned when he saw who the director was but downloaded the file anyway, opened it, then quickly parsed the synopsis. Mildly interesting, he thought after reading the overview, but more than likely a box office flop in the making. Not sure he wanted to get involved with a questionable project like this one, he sent his agent a curt ‘thanks but no thanks’, then went back upstairs to finished getting dressed. With a heavy winter coat and snow boots on, he went to his bedside table and picked up the book he’d been reading the past couple of nights, then took the elevator back down to the ground floor. He grabbed a long scarf and went back out into the storm, and began the short walk down into town. He remembered the town when it had been.
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