Marty pressed in the floor numbers as the elevator doors slid shut. 

Leaning back against the side of the elevator, Thirdy grinned down at a message on his phone. “Yup. You get used to the eighty-two games, sure? But roadies never grow on you.”

“Hard being away from the kids, eh?” said Jack.

“It’s tough.” Thirdy slapped him on the back as the bell dinged. “But you’re young–that helps. Lucky you’re not tied down.”