A gentle press on his arm whisks him back into the North Haven, where the woman is gone and Loris is right in front of him.
‘What’s wrong?’
Charles recoils, beads of sweat trickling down his spine. His heart races faster, but he’s no longer invincible. He’s completely exposed to Loris’ concerned eyes and so vulnerable his stomach flips.
‘Nothing, I’m— It’s fine. I do that. It’s a writer thing... Storylines and characters, they just— They take over…’
Panic is choking coherence out of him. What was that? How did he spaceout so bad?
He teeters back to the stool and fishes his pen out of his pocket. He clicks it, over and over, to steady his breathing while searching for patterns in the fizz edging to the top of his pint glass.
‘Here…’
Charles stares at the hand pushing a glass of water towards him, then at the arm, and at the worried face that he desperately needs to be disconcerting and mocking. That’s what his bubble was made of. It’s not all blurry yet, he could shape it again.
Nipping at the water, he blinks away lasting images of the adventure he just recollected.
He’s still clicking his pen, but when Loris’ eyes fall on his thumb, he drops it.
‘It’s okay, Charles. I watched you mistreat it for an hour the other day. I would have kept it, Olwinski or not.’
Charles exhales a strained laugh. He has no memories of taking his concern out on the pen when he was waiting to hear about Elsy’s medical issue. But Loris noticed and remembers. His awareness is dangerous. Charles needs to conjure the smartarse back.
‘You shouldn’t tell people you watched them for an hour.’
His voice isn’t as assured as he would like, but his answer redraws a smile on Loris’ face.
‘I usually don’t tell them, but you’re a stalker. That shouldn’t freak you out.’
‘Fair.’
‘I got the socks, by the way.’
‘Sorry?’
‘From the gift shop. At the Hermitage Museum. I bought the six pairs of socks.’
Charles gapes for a few pen clicks. ‘You went to the doubleLandsshowing in St Petersburg?’
‘My mum took me, yeah. Huge Olwinski fan too.’
‘No way! You were there? Did you sit in one of those red armchairs we could spin from one painting to the other?’
‘You bet! I didn’t go to pee once, to keep my spot.’
‘Same.’ Charles smiles, the bubble thickening around them. ‘WhichLandis your favourite?’
‘That day?Kraków. Overall,Ljubljana, but I’ve never been to San Francisco to see it.’
‘Alright… This is a bit surreal, having this conversation with you. Not you, Loris, but...’
‘With anyone? Yeah. As you said, he’s criminally underrated. That, we agree on.’ Loris moves closer, resting his forearms on the counter in front of Charles. ‘Sadly, there’s something we’re not on the same page about.’
‘Pun intended?’
‘Everything I do is intended. We need to discuss the book. You seemed ready to deck me in the mud because of it.’
‘Massive overstatement. I was just about to—’
