It doesn't occur to him to avert his eyes as she reads the words from the page. In fact, Wrench keeps right on staring for all the time it takes her to pen her reply. That critical gaze might be enough to stop someone in their tracks, but he's only looking for any signs of emotion that might give shape to the words he's about to read. The way her message might quirk her brow or make her lips purse just to write down. She seems sad. That's not surprising, he thinks.

He wanted to hate John from the first moment he met the man back in Deerington. He'd had more than enough reason to, Wrench thinks to himself even know. The stranger whose arms his own husband had ran into seemed so cocky and self-assured. It was almost as if he'd been actively trying to piss Wrench off. They'd both been like that to the bitter end, he thinks. They'd squabbled and disagreed and found increasingly outlandish ways to get under each other's skin, but there's no one left that Wrench was as close to as John.

By the time he takes the notebook back, Wrench feels the prickle of emotion at the backs of his eyes and in his nose. He steels himself with a huffed breath and reads the woman's name with an air of realization. Luna, the one who had helped John subdue Maul.

Yes, he writes, sharp and to the point. He's not surprised that John's made provisions for his disappearance. Wrench purses his lips and writes a little more. Give me ten minutes and I'll clear out of your way.