"Three months?" said Mindy, my new research librarian. "Who the hell goes fishing for three months?" She folded her arms and favored us with a glower.
Jenny put two more sticks of dynamite into the tackle box. "All work and no play makes Mord a dull boy." she proclaimed loftily. She took up her harris tweed fishing cap and settled it on her head at a jaunty angle. "Now," she said, "Where are the blasting caps?"
"Top draw of the office supplies cabinet," I said as I settled my fly rod into its case. "Next to the stamps and white-board markers."
I snapped the case shut and handed it to Mindy. "Here," I said. "More helpful; less harridan. Put this with the rest."
"Besides," said Jenny as she rummaged through the supplies cabinet. "You don't want your face to get stuck in that expression. It would turn the mailman to stone, which would be quite the tragedy; he reads Proust and has a nice ass. Oooh!" she cried, "Grenades!"
"Not for fishing," I pointed out.
Jenny pouted and continued rummaging.
Mindy huffed her displeasure, took the fishing rod case and set it by the door on top of a small stack of outdoor gear.
"It's just...unusual" she said, her face moving off disapproval and on to dismay. "I just started a week ago and suddenly you announce you're leaving the office until November on a fishing trip to Canada. Just like that. You barely know me and I'm supposed to run your think tank? And who fishes for three months...with explosives?"
I sat at my desk and began sorting through a box of fishing flies. "Well, there won't be a lot of thinking going on in the tank while I'm away," I said. "Mind the library, keep the utility bills up to date, take deliveries. Easy stuff."
"Found them!" Jenny called, brandishing a small black and yellow striped box.
"But what about your blog?" Mindy said. "What if something really important happens in Eve? What if a mob of pasty, underdeveloped geeks storms the office and demands to see you?"
"Hmmm," said Jenny as she helped herself to some primer cord. " Nope. Sorry. " She shook her head. "Eve and 'really important' in the same sentence just aren't connecting for me." She pointed at the office supply cabinet, "And didn't you hear me say you have grenades? They're a perfectly appropriate response to any mob of angry gamers."
"Are you sure you don't moonlight for CCP's public relations department?" I said to Jenny. She sniffed primly and snapped the tackle box shut.
"Seriously," I said to Mindy. "There are lots of good people keeping the capsuleers informed these days; bloggers and podcasters and news outlets. They'll hardly know I'm gone. And I'll look in on things now and again - just to keep a finger on the pulse."
Mindy looked unappeased. "What if someone has an important tip to deliver?" she asked.
"That's why I have my mordfiddle gmail account." I said. "I'll check it every couple of days. See? Easy."
She looked somewhat mollified, but still uneasy. "Should you be fishing with dynamite in Canada?"
"Hey," said Jenny, "You fish your way and I'll fish mine. Do I tell you how to relax?"
"But it's illegal," Mindy persisted. "You start setting that stuff off and you'll have a troop of Mounties all over you."
The corners of Jenny's mouth quirked up. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
The Thing About Consent
13 hours ago