"It's ridiculous. But functionally ridiculous, which is the best kind."
"Indeed." He takes a careful sip, and I watch his expression change. Surprise, then something that might be appreciation. "This is excellent coffee."
"Don't sound so shocked. I may live on deadline panic and takeout, but I know my way around a coffee bean."
"I did not intend to suggest?—"
"Relax. I'm not offended." I settle onto his couch without being invited, suddenly too tired to maintain proper social boundaries. "What are you writing?"
"Practice exercises. Conjugation patterns in Magyar."
"Hungarian?"
"Yes. The grammatical structure differs significantly from English. Regular practice prevents degradation of fluency."
I watch him write for a moment, each letter formed with the same careful attention I bring to editing final drafts. No rushed scribbles or casual shortcuts. Every word deliberate.
"How many languages do you actually speak?"
"Fluently? Six. Conversationally, perhaps twelve."
"Jesus.And here I am proud of my high school Spanish."
"Linguistic aptitude varies considerably between individuals. Your writing demonstrates sophisticated command of English vernacular and cultural nuance."
"You mean my blog about subway etiquette?"
"Among other pieces. Your article about navigating bureaucratic services was particularly well-researched."
Heat spreads across my cheeks. He's not just reading my blog casually—he's actually paying attention. Analyzing my work like it matters.
"That post took me three weeks to write. I had to file six different permit applications just to understand the process."
"The effort shows. The information proved quite useful for my visa renewal documentation."
Oh.That hits differently than I expected. My random blog post about dealing with city paperwork actually helped someone navigate immigration bureaucracy. Suddenly the three weeks of research feel less like obsessive perfectionism and more like accidentally useful public service.
"I'm glad it helped."
"Your perspective as a freelance writer provides valuable insight into navigating systems designed for traditional employment structures."
"Systems designed by people who've never had to explain why they don't have a 'real job' to their parents."
"Indeed." He closes the notebook and gives me his full attention. "Though your work appears quite substantial. The depth of research suggests considerable professional commitment."
"Don't let my mother hear you say that. According to her, anything that doesn't involve a daily commute and health insurance isn't actually employment."
"Cultural expectations regarding career paths can be restrictive."
Something in his tone makes me study his face more carefully. The careful word choice, the slight tension around his eyes.
"Let me guess. Your family had opinions about linguistic research?"
"Orcish culture values physical accomplishment over academic pursuit. My choice to study human languages was considered unconventional."
"Unconventional how?"
"Weak. Impractical. A rejection of cultural heritage."
