"They're supposed to cut through anything."
"Supposedly," Eric agreed. Then, with the timing of a magician revealing his final trick, he produced a large box of ripe tomatoes from his bag. "I came prepared," he announced.
Elena looked from the tomatoes to the knives to the twogrown men grinning at each other like co-conspirators. "You can't be serious," she said, though there was no real objection in her voice.
"Dead serious," Eric replied. "These babies need a proper test run."
She thought about objecting to this. But nothing in the employee handbook covered chopping tomatoes in the lab, Elena was pretty sure.
"I can't believe I'm saying this," she said. "But take it away."
The lab workbench was hardly an ideal surface for a knife demonstration, but Finn was treating this like any other experiment. They lined up the tomatoes in a neat row. Elena remained at her computer, completely unable to focus on her work. Finn picked up his knife, weighing it in his hand. His eyes darkened, like a cat that had just realized there is a mouse in the vicinity.
He sliced through the first tomato slowly, almost gently. The blade glided through with surprising ease. "Wow," he said, looking impressed. "That felt... really good."
Eric laughed and raised his own knife dramatically. "This one just needs ONE CLEAN SLICE!" he announced, mimicking Brad Valentino's infomercial delivery. He brought the knife down with theatrical precision, decimating his tomato with a satisfying thwack.
Juice splattered across the counter, a few droplets landing dangerously close to the lab equipment they'd pushed aside. Elena's inner-mom emerged before she could stop it. "Don't get tomato juice all over the lab equipment, guys!" she warned, stepping forward with her hands on her hips.
Both men froze, looking sheepish for a moment, like schoolboys caught misbehaving. Eric was the first to recover.
"Sorry, Dr. Herrera," he said, grabbinga paper towel to wipe up the splatter. "Got carried away with the sheer cutting power."
Finn turned to her, and then… he winked. A small, quick gesture, but Elena felt heat rise to her cheeks. Something fluttered in her stomach.
Within minutes, the tomato cutting devolved into controlled chaos. The two grown men casually decimated the pile of tomatoes, comparing cutting techniques and quoting lines from what Elena assumed must be the infomercial.
"Brad Valentino sends his regards," Finn muttered, before attacking another tomato with unnecessary intensity. The juice splattered, but this time he was careful to contain it to the cutting board.
"Hey man," Eric said while lining up another victim, "we're still going bowling on Saturday, right?"
Elena blinked, certain she'd misheard. Bowling?
"Oh absolutely," Finn responded, focusing on his chopping. "And you will not see a single gutter ball from me this time."
Eric snorted. "That's rich, Doc. I'll believe it when I see it."
Elena's mind stuttered over this new information. Bowling? They were friends now? When had this happened? She'd always pictured Finn going straight home after work, perhaps reading research papers or working on analyses.
She was still processing this revelation when she realized both men were looking at her expectantly. One of them must have asked her something while she was distracted. "I'm sorry, what?" she asked, feeling embarrassed.
"Are you going to join us?" Eric asked again, gesturing with his knife toward the remaining tomatoes.
Elena's mind was still stuck on the bowling. Were they asking her to come bowling with them? That seemed... complicated. The boundary between them was already strained enough.
"Yeah, Elena," Finn added, holding up the extra knife. "Come chop tomatoes with us!"
Oh. Tomatoes. They were asking about tomatoes.
"I should really finish this analysis," she said, gesturing vaguely toward her computer.
"More for us then," Eric said, returning to his chopping.
Elena lingered for another moment, watching them. Eric demonstrated what he called the "proper wrist action" from episode six of the infomercial series, and Finn laughed loudly.
"You should've seen this guy the first time we went bowling," Eric was saying, gesturing toward Finn. "He’s got an IQ of 500 but couldn't keep a ball out of the gutter to save his life."
"It was those damn shoes they gave me. I couldn’t get my footing!" Finn protested, though he was still smiling.
