The Enthusiasts

10

It was four a.m. according to The Tablet's internal clock when Emerson and Sasha began to wind down their discussions, filling in most of the blank spaces around what had gone on in each other's lives that day like a retired couple reconnecting after a day of running errands and socializing separately. Sasha kept most of the specific details about the massacre in the tower to a minimum while she attempted to scrub them from her own brain. Likewise, Emerson kept the details about his intercepted message describing a plot to kill nearly everyone on Earth to himself. So, as they had on occasions before, they each seemed to enjoy playing coy, or maybe a game of role-reversal, with each party calling the other's bluff with nothing more than a raised eyebrow or pressed lips. Emerson knew he was no hero (although he certainly had his moments, and the day certainly wouldn't be recorded as non-heroic for the record). Sasha refused to discuss if there were any casualties involved in her escape, an omission which Emerson instinctively picked up on, but he drew no attention to her reluctance, knowing already that it was bad from watching her uncharacteristically vulnerable demeanor. She carried a lot of guilt with her into the loft. He couldn't help himself from feeling joy at that moment: she's really changed! he thought to himself. She's a real girl!

"I just wish I could have been there to watch you take out that small army on that rooftop. That must have been something. How many were there? Ten men carrying rocket launchers, and snipers positioned all around you?" Sasha wanted to poke at the details of Emerson's story a fourth time to hear what other parts would change. Her body was nearly healed. Her legs were now fully relaxed, extended, and dangling over an old La-Z-Boy recliner (which no longer reclined). Her head was resting against its padded shoulders. Stuffing was strewn about the floor from her picking at it while they reminisced. Nothing had changed inside the space since they'd last stayed there, yet the tiny rooms seemed smaller, cozier. For a brief period after Emerson and Sasha had "made a break for it", with Emerson leaving his multi-million-dollar post at Spectra's NewMassConn HQ on the east coast and Sasha vanishing in the night from her station near Salt Lake to join him, they met up in North Garrison, zigzagging around town before settling down for several weeks here, in this apartment. The nostalgia of them sharing the loft together made her feel very pleasant as she imagined them staying there forever, never returning to camp. She knew it wouldn't happen, which made staying awake in her beyond exhausted state much easier. She didn't want this night to end. Candles burned for light with nearly all the windows boarded up and both doors barricaded to keep their quiet oasis just that: quiet and oasis-ie.

Emerson took his eyes off The Tablet and set it next to him in sleep mode. He stood up to yawn and stretch before he chose to answer Sasha's prodding question that he knew was meant to demean his heroism. "It was something like that... There was plenty of danger, Jameison, don't you worry. There was a lot of action up on that rooftop, but I took care of myself." His back was turned to hide the involuntary smirk he knew she'd be looking for as he rummaged through a small freezer that to both their amazement was still working, along with the microwave sitting on the counter. He had 'tells' that came out when he was lying to her — and only her — he thought to himself... Well, at least she was the only person around anymore who knew for certain when he was stretching truths. He knew the real story of the events on the rooftop were more than enough to impress an adrenaline junkie the likes of her, but he naturally wanted to take it over the top, retelling it again, and again, to make her smile. Tall tales could get a laugh, while the truth bared no humor for either of them today.

"D'you think you can get the water running in the shower like before? I could use one," Sasha asked politely, as she imagined washing herself and then trying her best to have him take her there... Or, maybe she'd take him. He couldn't resist her right now, could he? He's just really shy, and afraid, she reasoned. We'll have fun tonight.