A stern talking-to from a friend and a slap from the Christmas Devil is enough to finally get Jon's miserable arse in gear.

Yes, he knows, fuck Tuesday, but that's the day he picks, nonetheless. He didn't want to interrupt any business-as-usual or leave a workday tense, and it was partially because he wasn't too keen to wait around any longer.

Here goes nothing?

Knocking on the back-door, he waits patiently, trying to keep his words collected as he waited. And the second Gerry answers, he loses about half those mental notes. Oh well.

"Hello, Gerry. ...Is now a good time to chat?"