(no subject)

[simon_doctor]

The commercial flight from Praxed to Osiris takes the better part of two days. Simon's got a berth to himself -- a small one, as these things go, but private.

He spends the first hour or so of the flight going over the next two weeks' schedule: meetings, interviews with potential new employees, a preliminary report on the infancy of the Rural Health Research Initiative. Another half-hour going over his own part of said report one last time. For the rest of the flight there isn't much to do except catch up on sleep, read, write a few textwaves.

(Presenting reports isn't new to him at all; hearing reports is something he's still getting used to, even months into the new job. The report he's looking forward to hearing is the one from Drs. Oberste and Mitel, regarding the current progress of the mobile clinic circuit.)

A few hours before they're scheduled to land, he goes over his part of the report one final last time.




Jordie picks him up at the spaceport, takes him and his luggage in hand, and drives him back to the apartment he remembers of yore.

He's not expecting what he sees when he steps through the front door, suitcases in tow.

Comments

[dr_j]

Because Jordie's always kept his place spotless. Editors for Better Homes and Gardens might want to make adjustments (too many books of different sizes! not enough knick-knacks! so functional! so lived-in!), but as often as he ever joked about slapping a kerchief on his hair and an apron around his waist and going to town with a toothbrush on the kitchen floor -- it's not exactly a lie, either.

He likes things neat and tidy, everything in its proper place, and if dust dares accumulate, it's not for long.

There's no dust (should Simon want to take his finger to the doorframes or the fan blades), and the baseboards are scrubbed.

But on every available surface, there are stacks upon stacks of fat books and clipped sheaves of digital paper.

"Sorry about the mess -- " Over his shoulder, as he heads for the guest room. "You remember where stuff is?"

[simon_doctor]

"Dangran, don't worry about it --"

Simon's looking around in some bewilderment as he follows Jordie.

"...what is all this?"

[dr_j]

"Reading material," he says shortly, as he opens the door to the guest-room-slash-theoretical-office, where a sock monkey holds court in the armchair. "I made some space in the closet."

[simon_doctor]

"Thanks."

He sets down his suitcase on the bed, preparatory to unpacking, and starts to take off his coat.

He's still looking the question at Jordie.

[dr_j]

"So how messed up is your internal clock?" He slips his hands in his pockets. "We could go out for dinner, or I could cook something. Whatever you'd prefer."

[simon_doctor]

"Ah ... only somewhat. I'm about three hours ahead of local time, I think." Half a beat. "We could do either? Staying in might be better, as I might start feeling the time difference soon."

[dr_j]

"Well -- why don't I see what I can come up with, and pour you a drink in the meantime?"

[simon_doctor]

"I'd appreciate that," he says sincerely. "Let me just hang up my coat."

[dr_j]

Jordie grins, and moves out of the way from the closet. "I still have that bottle of cactus liquor."

[simon_doctor]

"I thought we established you weren't giving me any of that," he says, slightly muffled by leaning into the closet.

[dr_j]

"Times have changed," he says, sonorous, on his way down the hall.

[simon_doctor]

"That much?"

It's light, but he can't help glancing at the books and papers everywhere in the living room as he follows Jordie out.

What's going on?

[dr_j]

"Consider how many years it's been," he says, from the liquor cabinet just inside the kitchen, "that I've had that bottle, and consider how long it's been sitting there sad and unloved."

(He's pulling out a respectable bottle of scotch.)

[simon_doctor]

"Unused, maybe, but unloved?"

Simon leans on the kitchen doorpost, amused.

[dr_j]

Out comes a lowball glass. "I don't love it. -- I forget. On the rocks? Water? Neat?"

[simon_doctor]

"Rocks, please."

The weariness of the trip is beginning to settle onto him, very slowly, and just now very lightly.

[dr_j]

It's maybe another thirty seconds, maximum, before Simon has a drink in his hand and Jordie starts contemplating the contents of his pantry.

"So." Moderately cheerful. "What's new?"

[simon_doctor]

Simon takes a grateful sip of the drink. "Mm. Not a great deal, really -- this trip is the most exciting thing to happen in a while."

[dr_j]

Jordie narrows his eyes at the contents of the pantry, and reaches for a clear container with rice in. "Exciting because you get to renew your acquaintance with my couch, I'm sure."

[simon_doctor]

"Well, I have missed your couch," he concedes, straight-faced.

[dr_j]

On to the spice cabinet. "Because it's spectacular."

[simon_doctor]

"Because it's spectacular."

Half a beat, and he adds, excessively casual: "And right now it seems to be the only horizontal surface in your living room that doesn't have reading material on it...."

[dr_j]

Jordie glances up, in process of pulling out a steel pan, with a very small smile that's more speculative than particularly nice.

"If you're so curious, Tam, go take a look."

[simon_doctor]

Simon looks for a moment at that faintly challenging smile.

If he wanted to keep it a secret, it wouldn't be sitting out.

"All right," he says. "Do you want any help with dinner first?"

[dr_j]

"Depends," he says, taking the pan to the sink. "Have you learned how to cook seafood without poisoning anybody yet?"