"How long have you been writing?"
"Two months. Maybe a little less."
So only since he'd been at Marsyas. "Not before?"
Sal shook his head. "I never–no one let me before. Until I came here."
"Arthur?"
Sal scuffed a shoe against the rug. "He asked me what I wanted more than anything. For the first month, he asked me once a week, telling me when I was ready to answer, he'd do whatever eh could within reason."
"And you said a typewriter?"
"No." He looked down at Calliope. "I told him I didn't want to have to move again. That I wanted to stay here."
Linus blinked against the sudden and unexpected burn in his eyes. He cleared his throat. "And what did he say?"
"That he'd do whatever he could to make sure that happened. And then I asked for a typewriter."
a welldeserved nap after a long night of extensive trickortreating and general mischief! but im sure if any of them were awake, the first thing theyd tell you would be: HAPPY HALLOWEEN !!!
So when he climbed out of the car, rocks crunching under his feet in the driveway, it was because he understood that sometimes, one had to do unsavory things for those one cared about.