The changes in Caleb are already like night and day. You've made some great observations. The rest of the Krew would be wise to follow your lead and focus on the same things rather than whether or not I'm going to off Asa out of the blue.
We all need to remain optimistic.
You're dealing with an author who's been known to throw the unexpected at her readers and expect them to deal with it.
Just one steak? Methinks your canine instincts will have you hogging the whole case. I can see you burying the baked potatoes for later and forgetting where you put them.
Caleb groaned. For a moment, he thought he was back at Giles’ in the aftermath of being shot. His muscles spasmed in protest as he moved. Why the fuck was he so sore?
Shit, Asa!
His eyes flew open. He tried to push himself upright and floundered helplessly.
“Whoa! Hang on there, Caleb.” Santos hurried to the bedside, his bag of medical supplies clutched in his hand. A strong arm pushed him back onto the bed.
He scowled and attempted to sit up again, wincing as the doctor g
Ok. I found myself commisurating with Al as he suffered through "mandatory performance enrichment" training (or whatever the higher ups want to call it- two hours of our lives we will never get back.)
I even was a little sympathetic at the whole stray cat thing (not a cat person).
Then you flung the wig off the choir leader at the end of the chapter. Well done. My kind of evil genius.