66 Nerves on Edge

The man was sitting on the studio's couch, not even near the table where Randolph had placed the contract.

The young man turned his gaze over to the round table in the room, and indeed, the sheet of rough paper lay completely untouched, in the exact same position he had left it in.

From his standing position, Randolph could see several long lines of text on the contract. They were an assortment of random clauses, terms, and responsibilities that he had filled the contract with as a precaution in case the hobo would bother to read the contract. It was a veritable line of text, and it seemed as if it had done its job as the hobo only nodded in response to Randolph's question.

"Josh, right? What did you think of the terms? Good?"

"Uh… yes, great. I get the money first, right?"