Again.
This time the words on the screen not only have me sighing heavily but flinging myself back against the cushiony seat. “They wanna move up the demo showcase start date.”
“To when?”
Reluctance to reply is strong. “Saturday.”
“Saturday?!”
Her squeak causes me to cringe.
Momentarily shut my eyes to avoid her hateful glare.
“Fucking Saturday?!” The clanking of her dish signals me to meet Bryn’s glare. “We’re on vacation!”
“I know.”
“We’re not even supposed to fly home until Mondaynight.”
“I know.”
“They’re even having a private, bonus ‘Beam Us Goodbye, Scotty’ brunch on Sunday where Simon Pegg is expected to make an appearance!”
A second, sadder sigh escapes. “I know.”
“Then tell them to get fucked!”
There’s no stopping my head from cocking to the side. “I can’t just tell my team to ‘get fucked’, Bryn.”
“And why not?” She angrily swipes up her Enterprise cookie cutter. “This is one of the few times where you’re notPuppet BoybutPuppet Master.”
I hate that I don’t hate that fucking nickname.
I mean…how can I?
It was the first she gave me.
It was the first time someone other than Wes really wanted to be friends versus just an acquaintance who could eventually use me for their own benefit.
It bonded us during an almost unfathomable set of circumstances and reminds me that the most incredible things often come during the most unprecedented times.
Still.
Somethingslightlyless embarrassing to hear in mixed company wouldn’t suck.
LikeImzadi.
Dude, Ilovethat title.
Hearing it – during conversations, discussions, at lunch.
Reading it – especially in the good morning text form I received today.
Being it –regardless of if Wheeler is watching in the background.
I know we’re supposed to be pretending, but I’m not so sure that I am.
That I ever have been.
