The studio lights have been dimmed to a soft glow, and the crew has stepped out for a fifteen-minute break. On the velvet sofa in the middlee of the room, Connor and Hudson have immediately slumped into their own world.

​Connor: [Leaning back with a wide, bright smile, his shoulders shaking with a quiet laugh] "Hudson, you actually cannot say that when we go back on air. The producer will have a literal heart attack."

​Hudson: [Sprawled out half-off the couch, making a ridiculous face at the ceiling] "But it's the truth! If I don't tell the people about my theory on squirrels being government spies, who will, Connor? Who will speak for the trees?"