[You arrive at the office! It's just like you left it.] [This place doesn't even have a TV. Blah. Well, there is the Concordat2000, if you want to surf the web.] ( In exciting 12 x 10 resolution! ) * Herman is at the office! Actually, he got there first, given teleportation and all. He's sitting at the computer and idly typing on it, though he's no Lukas. * Ashley wanders in, fairly silently. He's gone with a kind of Goth beatnik look today, and flops down in a chair, managing to not spill the latte he's holding. * Herman looks up the moment Ashley walks in, then relaxes. "How's it going?" Poorly. That great, huh? Sounds like everybody else. * Herman goes back to poking at the computer. How you English have managed to take a fairly simple machine such as an airplane and erect a veritable temple to inefficiency around it is beyond my poor fairy brain to grasp. I wouldn't know. I don't get to fly that bloody much; the parents always wanted to save on air travel. Flight got cancelled? Delayed, rescheduled, rebooked, gate changed, and cancelled. Not in that order and often simultaneously. * Herman blinks and looks at Ashley again. "Damn." * Ashley sips his latte and adjusts his beret. "Milan will have to wait. * Herman eyes Ashley's getup. "As long as you don't start reading poetry and talking about the emptiness of your soul..." Technically there's no soul to be empty, so no worries there. ( The vampiric penguin resents that. ) (It's twenty years dead! Er, uh. Undead?) Although I could perhaps go for a rousing Tennyson recital. Don't look at me. I bet I could look it up if I knew how to spell his name, but I'm not feeding your disease. Tennyson hardly qualifies as Goth. Charging into the face of death for the sake of glory is not the beatnik way. Kerouac would probably just shite himself. * Herman snerks. "Fine." * Herman makes himself a little more comfortable, leaning his arm against the back of his chair, and keeps Ashley talking. "Who's Kerouac? Never heard of him."