Tony Foster

It was break week, so Tony was still in bed when the phone rang. He groped for it on the nightstand, stared blearily at the Darkest Night office number on the screen and pressed Talk. “Amy?” he guessed. “I still don’t remember what happened to that trombone.” ( Phone call from Vancouver )

[Yes, he's leaving! But just for the summer. Anyone who wants to say good-bye is welcome to have gotten a call or just happen to stop by.]