Sullivan cracks his neck and inspects the burns, not too bad. He'd gotten worse over the years, not very many, and few were coming to mind right that second, but he'd gotten worse.

He reached into his duffle bag and pulled out his phone. Tonight wasn't wholly unexpected, you can't attempt to attack Feder without acid being a factor somewhere down the line. He still had Feder's number and he figured sending a message was the least he could do.

The message was short sweet and to the point of course.

Not bad out there. The hose was a nice touch.

He wondered briefly if Feder's head would explode when he realized that the message wasn't filled with profanity laden insults.