The pleasure was all mine. I couldn't leave a damsel in distress phoneless. That would be unchivalrous.
Ivy:
Unchivalrous? Did you time travel from the eighteenth century?
Okay, maybe I overshot with the effort of being a normal, nice person.
King:
Maybe. Or maybe I appreciate the art of good manners.
Ivy:
Well, thank you. Again. Really. I owe you one.
King:
You’re welcome. Again. Glad it made it back to you in one piece.
Three dots appear. Vanish. Reappear.
Ivy:
I actually have no idea how I could have lost it in front of the Raptors building? I’ve just started working there, so that’s why I was there. At first I thought I must have lost inside, but apparently not.
This would be the point where the conversation sizzles out. The thank you have been said and each one goes back to their own lives. But I don’t want that. I want to learn more about her. Talk to her. So I type.
King:
You work for the Raptors? That’s exciting.
The dots appear instantly this time. No hesitation.
Ivy:
Exciting is… one word for it. Terrifying might be another. I only had my first day there today. I’m doing research there. So very unglamorous.
I smile at my phone.
King:
Somehow I doubt that. Research how?
Ivy:
Biomechanics. Concussion patterns. Injury prevention. So unless you find spreadsheets and brain scans glamorous, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.
King:
I don’t know. A woman who can explain how the human brain breaks and fixes itself sounds pretty impressive to me.
There’s a pause. Longer this time.
I picture her rereading that, suspicious of compliments like they might explode.
Ivy:
That’s… nice of you to say. Most people’s eyes glaze over around the word biomechanics.
