Bash lifts his phone and screws up his face, one eye squinted shut and tongue sticking out unflatteringly as he snaps a quick picture to send off to his sister. (Her reply is fast. And rude. He grins briefly down at the screen.) His free hand drops down to absently scrub Lucas’ hair back from his forehead before he leans forward.

"Not just the books," Bash replies. "There’s comics and video games and cartoons. Lots of things that need writers." He chews his lip, adding a bright: "They’ve definitely gone next generation before. It’s a good jump off point."