Tad calmed down in response to the softer tone in Derby's voice, and his fists unclenched to reveal a neat row of crescent-shaped fingernail marks in his palm. He had to remind himself sometimes that he and Derby were friends, and that for now, at least, Derby was only looking out for his best interests. The fact that Tad would have celebrated the fall of the Harrington empire, possibly even more than Derby would have celebrated the failure of Spencer Shipping's Blue Skies project, meant nothing. That was business, after all. It was nothing personal.
Sometimes, however, he thought that his life had been much simpler when he had been best friends with Gord Vendome.
"You're right," he relented at last, and began to untie the sweater from around his neck and toe off his loafers. "I should at least make sure he isn't dead."