Ethan pulled out a chair and sat down across from him.

“Your mother told me you watch that Christmas movie about the boy in the big house every December,” Ethan said.

Sam adjusted his wire-rim glasses with his middle finger and put his pencil down.

“The boy sets twelve booby traps in ninety minutes,” Sam said.

“The paint cans on the staircase would have caused skull fractures if the acceleration had been calculated correctly.”

“It’s supposed to be a comedy, Sam,” Ethan said, a faint smile touching his mouth before it faded completely.