When Pheme set the glass down and looked at him, Internet felt they had finally arrived at the purpose for her visit, and he leaned forward, forearms resting on his bent knees with the clear glass and its clear liquid between them.
What she said next made him sit frozen, locked in place, pondering just how he was going to throw her out of his place. There were many undignified ways to go about throwing someone out and he planned the worst one for her, seeing it happen in his mind and what he would do next.
With the blink of an eye, his thought process changed. This was Pheme. And while she was an ancient deity, she still had proven the knave in modern times, and had occasionally garnished Internet's respect and admiration. Not that he would ever admit such a thing to her or anyone else.
Pheme would not come all the way out here just for a prank. Not just to ask about movies, badly CG'd aliens, Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones and fictional agents who only used one letter of the alphabet at a time to identify themselves. No, she would not come here and waste her time. Or dare to waste his. Not in such close proximity, anyway. She had something else with this, and he wanted to know what.
He slowly leaned back on his chair again and crossed his ankle over one knee, his expensive suit shimmering in the hard light of the room. "The Men in Black..."
Quickly he checked his database for something besides a 1990's movie that would be of interest to someone like Pheme, and more importantly, as far as he was concerned, to himself. It had gotten nearly a cult like following with its concept. People loved to be paranoid over stories of Big Brother pulling the wool, or flashing tiny pens that wiped their memory, over their eyes. Even before the Blockbuster.
There were many possibilities to consider, so he decided to let her tell him which one she had come to him about. And possibly, in the meantime, she could redeem herself. He found that playing dumb occasionally worked to his benefit. Not that he was good at pulling it off.
"The comic, the movie, or the secret organization?" His smirk faded slightly as more possibilities hit him. He knew she must mean the latter. But why? He searched her eyes, wishing he could read her like he could read his hypertext language.