Re: Diner: Michael/Janis
Janis was not going to be carrying around flavored creamer in her purse, like the dear grandmas that collected ketchup packets and free napkins from fast food places. We hadn't fallen that far, thank you very much. She liked her luxuries, and remembering what it was like to be cold and wet, with your feet pretty much rotting off you, so she was going to sit her ass down and let people bring hot food to her whenever possible.
She knew she'd struck a nerve when he flinched around the word 'wife,' and her face took on a kindly, neutral lack of expression that was custom-tailored to the situation. She knew that look the way he knew a line of faulty code and an engine that wouldn't run. It was as clear to her as neon signs. He might move on, but she would remember.
"Nobody sniffs at the Nobel prize these days," she countered, confirming the dream when she heard it, and smiling the slow smile of cheshires and similar felines over cream bowls. "What's great about a robot arm?"