Re: 9pm Oliver and OPEN
Even if it wasn't a topic in his particular field of interest, Avram loved having things explained to him by people who knew their stuff. It was reassuring, a reminder that humans had mastered so much of an unforgiving environment, and there were those satisfying mental clicks of information falling into place; Avram was addicted to the clicks, however he found them. "Interesting, okay, so like Iran and Afghanistan? And hey, it's never too late to go back to learning la plume de ma tante, right? Just to show 'em you can."
Oliver's last question made Avram's smile fade noticeably. "Uh..." He looked back down at his plate, fidgeting a bit with his fork. If he could have got away with lying he would have, but that was stupid in a place like this, where everyone was cooped up together for the long haul. "I don't really do anything. My father has—it's called Kennedy's Disease, it's a rare genetic thing, looks pretty similar to ALS. Progressive paralysis, muscle wasting, digestive issues in my dad's case because he has issues with swallowing, the muscles in his esophagus...anyway. I was at MIT for math, I was planning to go the academia route. Doctorate, teaching. Hell, I'd teach high school, I don't even need to be the next Paul Erdos or something. But then my dad needed serious care, and so that's all I do now. He doesn't want to be in a nursing home and I don't want to put him there, so..." He shrugged. "As Disney would say, anyplace can be a nursing home if you believe."