Nina and Amanda
“On a fair day, in a time when the roads were in good condition and shufflers were just a nightmare, it still took eight hours to make the trip down from Tulsa. In current conditions, it takes longer.” As she spoke, Amanda opened her napkin and placed it onto her lap. “Securing and restoring almost 500 miles of road is a logistical nightmare, which is why the federal government has been relying on caravans in the first place. But I'm not telling you anything you don't already know.”
"You're not." A silence settled between them after Nina spoke and she twisted absently at the napkin on her lap while she sought out an additional response. Why was it so difficult to do something as simple as this? Especially in front of Amanda?
"The weather's been nice lately," she offered after a moment, regretting the phrasing as soon as she remembered that Austin's temperatures were hotter than other parts of the United States -- certainly hotter than Denver. With anyone else, she'd change the subject from the weather by remarking on how nice it was to drink water without worrying about it running out, but this too seemed to lead into a loaded conversation.
“Has it?” Though Amanda’s tone was mild enough, it nevertheless poorly hid her distaste of Austin’s climate. The transition through autumn into winter might bring some relief, or at least she hoped so, but it would never match up to Denver on her estimation. But then no other place, not even DC, ever did.
"Yes. It's a bit cooler," Nina said, pressing on despite how wrong and weird the conversation felt. "Relatively speaking, of course. And mainly at night."
“Hmm.” It was rather sad that in moving on from topics related to their jobs, she and Nina had already been reduced to talking about the weather. Their inability to hold a conversation was inexplicable, yet Amanda found herself racking her brain for something to say. She'd just opened her mouth to try a different topic when they were saved by the arrival of the appetizers.
“Oh, thank goodness.” Amanda aimed a brief, dazzling smile at their waiter before turning to the food in front of her. “I'm starved.”
Nina suppressed an amused smile at Amanda's turn of phrase, knowing that living at the Capitol, she'd never known the feeling, and gave a quick thank you to the waiter before he departed and the two women began to apply the same sort of diligent ethic to the poppers as they did their actual work.
"I suppose this sort of thing is commonplace back in Denver?" she dared to ask after a moment, a hint of a smirk on her lips as she looked back up at Amanda. Food always had a way of putting her into a better mood, and she was admittedly curious about what it was like in Amanda's home. Perhaps one day she'd visit and see it for herself. "Restaurants and dining and normalcy?"
Amanda nodded, but held up a finger to indicate that she couldn't answer with actually words for the moment. Not until she'd swallowed this mouthful of jalapeño, anyway. Then, having done that, she dabbed at her lips with her napkin before speaking again. “Yes, in fact. We still have a curfew, of course, but there are several restaurants to choose from, and other entertainment besides. Live theater has made an enormous comeback, for example, as has live music.”
"I can't even begin to imagine." Nina couldn't help the flicker of jealousy, too, as she tried to picture the little luxuries that Amanda had in Denver. She'd asked, though, knowing all along that this was a risk she was taking. On her best days she didn't hold their relative success against the rest of the country.
The new topic of conversation brought a wash of homesickness along with it, and Amanda suddenly remembered, in aching detail, the last meal at her favorite restaurant, the last walkthrough of her apartment, the last view of the skyline against the mountains as the caravan drown away from the city. She cleared her throat softly, turning her attention deliberately back to the food as something of a shield. “If you ever visit, I’d be happy to make some recommendations for you.”