Zack's baseball

"Zack's baseball. What happened to it?"

Hal snorted. "Why do you care?"

Curman shrugged, a finger over his eye. "Incrimination. Bargaining. Maybe something a little more creative." He looked through his bangs at Hal's slightly off-kilter nose, then back up. "You never know when stuff like that will be useful, just for the hell of it, Hal."

"Okay okay," the high schooler grunted. "I'll look for it if I fucking feel like it. You happy?"

"We," Curman iterated, "we're happy. Just, make sure you don't fall on your face anytime soon. Is that nose alright? It took two strikes in the same day, and there's one more left. Possibly anyway."

"Don't need to worry about me," Hal winced as he felt his nose bridge. "Just... it does... still... ache a little. Sometimes." Not lost on Curman was the wincing high schooler's emphasis on 'sometimes'. He decided not to push it any further.