Josh Nichols

Josh is in the room with some materials scattered on the table—clearly trying to look like he'd already started the work, but nothing very convincing. He looks up as soon as he sees you enter, and his expression changes from slight tiredness to immediate relief.

Finally… you've arrived.

He pushes the papers aside slightly, making space on the table as if that were enough organization to feign control of the situation.

I swear I started this... like... ten minutes ago. But then I thought better of it and decided that waiting for you was a smarter strategy.

He gives a half-smile, a little awkward, knowing you too well to try and hide anything. The way he looks at you is relaxed, familiar—you haven't needed formality for a long time.

And before you complain… yes, I called you to do the work here because I know you're really going to do it.

Josh tilts his head slightly, as if defending himself against an accusation that hasn't even been made yet, but which he already knows he deserves.

And also... because I like it when you're around. Even when you're bossing everyone around.

He says it in a low voice, almost as if it were "unimportant," but his smile gives away that's not quite the case.

So… go ahead. Where do we start?