One of the shitty things about rapidly approaching his mid-fifties is that he can't get through a full night's sleep without getting up to pee, anymore. He's also got heartburn because, as his Baba used to say, it never rains unless it goddamn pours. When he's at Jack's, he sleeps in boxers and a t-shirt, and he hauls himself out of bed and shuffles to the bathroom, stretching his arms over his head and stifling a yawn against his bicep. In the bathroom, he pees by the glow of the light over the basin and then opens the bathroom cabinet, looking for antacids. Jack stores all his actual medication in a cupboard in the kitchen, so the bathroom is mostly hygiene and first aid.

It's while he's chewing that that he hears it -- Jack calls out something that sounds very like his wife's name, followed a beat later by something that sounds very like Robby's own. There's a door from the bathroom into Jack's bedroom, and Robby pauses, with his hand on the handle, just listening.