Beverly couldn't sleep that night.

For hours at a time, he'd toss, then turn, then toss, then turn again. He couldn't get his conversation with Red out of his head. Was Red still upset with him? Of had he gotten over it like Beverly should have hours ago?

Beverly was almost one-hundred percent sure it was the ladder.

Red groaned to himself. He felt bad for how he'd acted toward Beverly at Jerry's, and during dinner. So, he rolled out and bed and made his way down the hallway to Beverly's bedroom.

He knocked twice, crossing both arms across his chest. Just on the other side of the door, Beverly stilled, his mouth ajar. Red could almost sense Beverly's anxiety. And the mere thought made him chuckle under his breath.

"I know you're awake, Bev." Bev, Beverly liked the sound of Red calling him by a nickname. No one had ever called him by a nickname—well, except for Red, now.

Beverly stood, setting his covers aside, before making his way toward the door. After pulling it open, Red raised his eyebrows at Beverly's tousled attire. "Rough night?"

When Beverly didn't answer, Red took a deep breath, preparing himself for what was about to occur.

"Get dressed. We're going to Jerry's."