Nick's own shirt, cheerily stating ask me about demonic bindings is so blisteringly boring that Nick almost wishes he had something more interesting in his past. You know, a deep dark secret that was more than my girlfriend's dad both set us up, and is also inside of me. But whatever.

He's not paying too much attention, until the word manuscript catches his eye. It catches his eye, in fact, so completely he barely notices the strapping young thing it's attached to.

Nick looks up - he's always looking up - and then back at the shirt. "I am dearly hoping Manuscript isn't a bar."