afternoon tea
Janet's apartment is a studio, but it takes the casual visitor a moment to realize that; she's set up almost-ceiling-high bookshelves to create the semblance of internal walls, partitioning off a closet-sized "bedroom" from the only slightly larger "living room" next to the kitchen. They've had full meetings here before, but not often; the abridged space can seat twelve people, but not comfortably.
When Greg arrives, stamping snow off his boots in the hallway, Tara's already ensconced on the couch with her hands wrapped around a mug of tea. "Todd can't make it," Janet says apologetically as she stands aside to let Greg in. "He called about a half-hour ago."
When Greg arrives, stamping snow off his boots in the hallway, Tara's already ensconced on the couch with her hands wrapped around a mug of tea. "Todd can't make it," Janet says apologetically as she stands aside to let Greg in. "He called about a half-hour ago."
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He sighs. "I know it's thematic and all, but sometimes it seems like--"
"What?" Tara says.
"Number one superfan talking again, remember," he says, gripping his mug. (Seven is a nice round number.) "It seems like everything is either a rehash of the old days or... not quite real. Not quite as solid. Anybody else getting that?"
"You talking about the books?" Tara says. "Or... everything?"
"What do you think?" he says glumly.
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"So I've got an interview with this temp agency next week," Janet says, apparently to the cat in her lap.
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Rent is another story, but not one she's about to get into.
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"So I was looking at the High Speech database this morning," Greg says eventually. "And I realized we don't have the taheen names broken down and included. Did we have a discussion about that or was it just an oversight, I can't remember?"
"That was my call," Tara says, bristling, but only minorly. (She's the only one with any linguistics background--an oversight, in retrospect.) "Why?"
The truth is, even Janet welcomes the ensuing argument, despite her attempts to broker the peace and eventual retreat into the kitchen. It--
Well, it feels like old times.