as you do

He’s just starting on his third drink of the night when another glass clinks down on the bar just next to his.“You don’t text, you don’t call,” says the voice that he’d know anywhere, whether across a library table or a crowded courtroom. “You’re fortunate that I remember your old haunts from before, Barba.”Rafael groans, half-heartedly cursing the day he ever agreed to becoming friends (ha) with this particular bane of his existence. “I’m not sure how this counts as ‘fortunate’ by any stretch of the word, Calhoun.”