“…you keep staring, you wanna know why I keep that old thing around?” Mr. Atwell didn’t raise with his voice but his eyes opened. Sitting across the towering desk from him was Evan.

He tore his guilty eyes away from the stuffed rabbit. He took a moment to answer, trying to form something diplomatic.

“If you’re willing to share with me, sir. Sure.”

“If you’re willing to share…” the words were parroted back with surprising immaturity. Like an actual child. Evan was stunned. “You sound like a fuckin’ shrink. Or a cop…” he let the word hang in the smoky air. “You wanna know or not? And don’t ‘sir’ me. I’m not your drill sergeant, your papa or your boss. You’re my guest.”

“Right… sorry. Yes. I’d like to know.” Evan chose each word carefully, remembering why he had come to see such a dangerous man.

“Rabbits paws are good luck, right? Was rhetorical. Of course they do. So if just the paw is lucky, what about the rest of it…?” He pointed, baiting Evan to investigate.

Just as he finally leaned in to do so—

“Haha! I’m kidding kid. That’s stuffed. Like a toy. What are you stupid? That look like a real dead rabbit to you? No, I keep it cause it was my me-ma’s good luck charm. That’s all. No magic. Well… who knows…?”

Evan took it all in with a smile, he prepared for his great ask, hoping the rabbit had luck to share…

…