“Call me Patch. I mean it. Call me.”
“Your name?” I repeated, hoping it was my imagination that my voice faltered.“Call me Patch. I mean it. Call me”
“You can call me Patch. No really. Call me.”
“My arms hurt from how tightly Patch held me. “Now that’s what I call a scream,” he said, grinning at me.”
“Call me or I’ll call you, but one of us will call, yes? What I mean is it’s not a competition. You don’t lose I you phone first.”
“I was wondering — I mean — could there be some mistake? Because nobody called me and Scrubb, you know. It was we who asked to come here.You would not have called me unless I had been calling you.”