Changing Jobs

“I'm sorry to see you go,” I said. I meant it, too, in more ways than one. I had learned a bit more about professionalism over the last year, though, so I stood up straight and offered my hand for Kathy to shake. She took it and smiled.

“We both know this was never the right place for me,” Kathy said. “Moving into research is a good step. And it will be way better on my joints.” She drew her hand back sharply like it had been stabbed. She winked one beautiful, eye-shadowed lid. Not as heavily done as it would have been a year ago. Her makeup had become more practical in her year at the node tower. Possibly just due to lacking the time or energy to do it up as fancy as she once had.

“I do agree it's the right move,” I said. “I like to think your practical experience here will be an asset to the team. At the very least, maybe you'll be inspired to develop a containment rune that takes less then fifteen strokes.” I smiled back at her, then. We had shared a few of those over the past months, although probably twice as many frowns and curses.

“No promises,” she replied. “But I might try to get it down to fourteen.” Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she stole a glance. “Well, it looks like my cab is here. You'd be amazed the up-charge they add for coming within two blocks of this place.” At my expression, she added, “No, I guess you wouldn't be.”

“Need any help with your things?” I asked.

“No, it's just the one box,” she said, lifting the handful of cardboard beneath an arm. “I've been thinking, though, there is one really good thing about leaving your employment.”

“Oh?” I said. I raised an eyebrow, fulling expecting another of her acerbic jokes.

“Yeah. I can finally ask you out for a drink. I left my cell number on your desk.” With that, she winked again and stepped quickly down the stairs and out the door.

Huh.