i grow old in my way, just like you do. WHO: Cormac Hier & Cyclone Kapur. WHAT: Mail call! WHEN: Tonight. WHERE: Their clinic/house. STATUS: Complete.
She had better things to do on a Friday evening. Right?
— well, no. Not really. Instead of hitting the pubs or catching an airship ride into the countryside or meeting some dashing young man for a night of torrid adventure, Cy Kapur was still working, because work was life was home and it never really quite stopped. When you technically slept in the same building as your office and occasionally had to hose down your employer, the lines blurred until they became a hopelessly entangled mass: where did work end? where did her personal life begin? It was a question she'd never quite managed to answer, even after years of juggling the delicate act that was her all-consuming job.
So it was Friday evening, and Cy found herself wandering back into the house, flipping through a stack of letters, bills, and invoices. She sorted through the paperwork with practiced efficiency, creating three piles: Deal With Immediately; Set Aside For Later; and Personal.
There was one envelope, however – large, heavy, and delicately-calligraphed – that gave her pause. Dropping the rest of the mail onto the foyer table, Cy slit this one open with one black-painted nail, unfolded the letter, skimmed it... then cleared her throat.
"CORMAC!" she yelled.
The shriek pierced the silence nicely; she knew exactly how much air to suck in and how loudly she had to shout for him to hear her upstairs.