She listened to the exchange, but drew no form of perception from it. Her own end of the line was cluttered with varying interference. The distant pulse of music, voices in the background that were so soft they must have been at least a yard away. Still, there was a muffled sound that suggested she was cupping her hand against the receiver, to distance him. Not that he wouldn't be able to tell where she was, but just to make herself heard.
"You sound so professional." There was a note of sallow amusement in her words, and little else. In the past, when she'd called Rick, it was in nothing but suggestion of a hook-up. He didn't sound like he expected that now, or was even unbusy enough to warrant it. Nostalgic, she listened to his end of the line for a moment before speaking again.