He, obligingly, stepped into the portal after her. “You have theories?”
She pushed the button for London. “Don’t you?”
They exchanged a glance, both smiling, as the portal confirmed: King’s Cross Station, London, England, United Kingdom.
“Why me?” said Tristan.
“Why not?” said Parisa.
It seemed they were like-minded. She was inexperienced with collaboration, but felt that was an important qualification for teamwork.
“I could certainly use a pint,” Tristan said, and the doors closed, delivering them to the remainder of their evening.
LIBBY
IT HAD NOT BEEN A VERY GOOD DAY for Ezra, poor thing. This was a rather inevitable outcome, of course, considering he’d had to spend most of it with Libby’s parents at her graduation ceremony before she, admittedly, had skipped off mysteriously without warning and then returned to delay any explanation for her absence by tugging him firmly into bed with her. At least he’d gotten sex that day, which she presumed would be a lovely turn of events, but also, his partner in the act had clung to a secretive and knowingly manipulative agenda that had left her distracted and unable to climax, so that was… potentially less lovely for him.
Subsequent pro: she had graciously made him dinner.
Subsequent con: she had also informed him over said dinner that she would be accepting the offer made to her by Atlas Blakely, Caretaker, despite being unable to properly explain why.
“So you’re just… leaving?” Ezra asked, warily bemused. He had been mid-sip when Libby began talking and had since forgotten about the wine glass that remained clutched in his hand. “But Lib—”
“It’s only two years,” Libby reminded him. “Well, one for sure,” she amended, “and then hopefully a second year if I’m selected.”
Ezra set down his glass, frowning at it.
“And… what is it, exactly?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“But—”
“You’ll just have to trust me,” she said, not for the first time. “It’s essentially a fellowship,” she added in an attempt to explain, but this, unfortunately, had been exactly the wrong auditory cue.
“Speaking of fellowships, I’ve been meaning to bring it up,” Ezra said, brightening, “but I just heard from Porter in the bursar’s office that Varona turned down that NYUMA fellowship. I know you weren’t excited about the VC job, so if you’re still interested in that position, I’m sure I could put in a good word.”
Surely he must have known this was the exact wrong thing to say. Shouldn’t he? She wouldn’t want Nico’s cast-offs, and certainly not now.
Though it did leave her with one other thing to explain.
“Well, the thing about Varona is—” Libby coughed. “Well, Varona is… also invited.”
Ezra faltered. “Oh?”
“Oh, come on. You can’t be surprised.” She fidgeted with her utensils, pushing the pasta around on her plate. “You saw us this morning, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but I thought—”
“Look, it’s the same as it always is,” she said listlessly. “For whatever reason, Nico and I can do the same things, and—”
“So then why do they need both of you?” Ezra prompted. Again, the wrong thing to say. “You hate working with him. Not to mention everyone knows you’re better—”
“Actually, Ezra, they don’t. Clearly they don’t,” Libby added with a scoff, “since he got the fellowship I wanted. See how that works?”
“But—”
“I can’t let him win this time, babe. Seriously, I can’t.” She wiped her mouth with her napkin, setting it back on the table with frustration. “I’ve got to set myself apart from him. Don’t you get that?”
“Can’t you do that by, I don’t know,” Ezra posed with tacit disapproval, “doing something different?”
He made that sound so simple.
“Look,” Libby said, “chances are, only one of us is going to make the cut when the… fellowship,” she remembered, narrowly avoiding giving more details away, “determines the final members for its—” A pause. “Faculty.” Another pause, and then, “We have the same specialty, which means we’ll draw the most obvious comparison. So either he’ll be picked and I won’t, in which case I’ll be back in a year or less, or I’ll be picked and he won’t, in which case—”