Cryptic

Sunlight streamed through the window, and left in its wake a trail of dust. A young brunette, Brett, perched on the windowsill. He brushed his hair behind his ear and scrolled through the messages on his phone.

"Wrong, wrong, wrong," Brett sighed. "Can no one solve a simple puzzle?"

His flatmate, Edward, who would appear smart, were it not for his untidy blonde hair, came to stand beside Brett.

"Maybe if you made them easier, someone would understand," Edward suggested. He loomed over Brett's shoulder and glanced at the screen.

"Stand somewhere else, you're blocking the sun," Brett complained.

Edward ignored him and wiped his glasses on his tie. "It's just a bunch of random letters."

"It's a cipher," Brett grumbled. His phone vibrated with a new notification. Brett glanced at it, and a smile played at the corner of his lips. "So, there are clever people left in the world."

Edward sighed and headed for the door. "I'm not going to dignify that with a response."

"You just did!" Brett retorted. He slouched against the window frame as Edward left.

Well played, but can you solve this? Brett typed out in reply. He accessed the gallery on his phone and uploaded another cipher.

Of course. The stranger, whose blog name was 'you've been lawyered,' replied.

Solve it then. Brett, under his user name of 'take me_or leave me,' sent back.

The response was instant. You do it. All you've done so far is post puzzles. You haven't solved any yourself.

Brett grinned. "Challenge accepted." He swung his legs around, and got to his feet as he typed his reply.

---

Two months passed. In a darkened theatre, Brett took centre stage.

Every seat was empty, except one. In the front row, a middle aged woman with curly hair sat, notepad in hand. Brett took a deep breath and began to sing. He was halfway through his last performance, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Brett grinned. When his performance was done, he bowed and rushed to the edge of the stage.

"Are we ready?" Brett asked. He craned his neck and tried to glance at the woman's notepad.

"Better hope so, sweetie. Opening night is only a week away," the woman, Miranda, their unflappable director, grumbled. "Look, I know that you are excited, but could you tone it down a little on stage? We're aiming for a mood similar to Les Mis, not Singing in the rain."

Brett nodded, and his mouth was open to reply when his phone vibrated again. He grinned and pulled it out of his pocket. He had another message from 'you've been lawyered,' Harvey, as he had revealed after a few messages.

"You've told me that every day for the past two months," Brett grumbled. "Has it really been that long?"

"Whose counting?" Miranda grinned. She snapped her notebook shut.

Brett scrolled through his past messages and grinned at some of the puzzles he had exchanged with his best friend. He glanced at his watch. The notification that he received should be a new challenge.