Spilling Guts

Part 31 - Avoiding the Inbox

Louis kept to the shady overhangs as he hunted for lunch along the boardwalk a block away from the Novak tower. Being in open daylight made him very aware of how the light called to the buzzing nerves under his skin, wanting to relax and change. He ignored it. It had been easier to ignore the sun when he had been walking with Balcuwitz earlier.

Perhaps Rachel was correct that part his ability to change in light was a mental skill.

A warm, spicy, fried scent caught his nose and drew him to a small business with a line going out the door. The air danced with cumin, curry powder, turmeric, and cayenne for burn. The curry fries from yesterday, Louis realized.

Why not? though Louis as he slipped in at the back of the line. I would rather wait outside than be at my desk with more patents. Greasy, spicy fries for lunch, that's what the doctor ordered. Literally, upping my calories at her request.

As Louis inched closer to the inside of the small building, his mind chewed over the walking session with Balcuwitz. He feared he would either dream of the office bunny in a sweater vest, or of Balcuwitz turning into a bunny.

Louis made it into the building; a chamber of heat, spice, and dim lighting. A relief from the sun, but a stress in the way that it was cramped. He looked to the exit door by the far side of the counter where patrons picked up their orders. He could hang on until he got his order.

He scanned the menu done up in paint pens and chalk. Signature fries with either sour cream, ketchup, or garlic mayo. Sweet potatoes croquets, black bean soup, veggie wraps. And then...

"Bite sized Fried Brussel's Sprouts!"

Nope. Curry fries. Sticking with the curry fries. No "bite sized" anything. He'd get enough of that come Monday.

I hate being "bite sized." And I hate being eaten when bite sized. The only person I'll stand being eaten by is Will, and he hates my guts. Probably hates the idea of me anywhere near his guts.

I can imagine the question from Balcuwitz now. "What is it about being swallowed whole that makes you uncomfortable?"

...Duh!

Louis snapped a picture of the menu and calorie count with his phone. There, that should satisfy Rachel's demand that I keep track of my calorie intake.

Louis made it to the register to place his order to go. Fries and sour cream. If they had been good as cold leftovers yesterday, they should be damn good fresh.

The line inched ever forward and his shaded eyes followed his ticket as a waxy cardboard container was filled to bursting with sizzling fries. It made his mouth water. Better than any granola bar Rachel could scrounge up.

After he got his order, Louis hoofed it back to Watch Two, wanting to sit and savor his lunch in peace before the fries cooled to sogginess.

Balcuwitz says I need to talk to Will. Lay out my boundaries. Get him to lay out his own. I can do that. I can talk civilly with someone.

Can I talk civilly with Will though?

That, Louis could not answer. Perhaps between patent files he could cobble together a rough list of boundaries he'd be willing to share.

Three steps beyond the security check, Louis' phone rang.

Misses Jasmine Watts.

All thoughts of patents and personal lists were left by the wayside as his feet turned towards the extra office he'd been using for his research in the Grovic case instead of Main Tech. He switched the takeout to his left hand and tapped the call.

"Patriarch speaking."

"I hope this isn't an imposition that I called you back," said Watts.

"No," said Louis. "I was about to have lunch."

"Then I'll call us even after yesterday." Watts paused, the sound of acrylic nails tapping in the background. "I threw a few nets out after yesterday's call. Found a few more victims of the trafficking ring that you didn't have on your list before. I figured you would need their information as well."

Louis reached the spare office and settled down for a long afternoon of research instead of patents. Paperwork was eternal, it would be there tomorrow. At least he was fueled by hot curry fries that filled the office with spice, and the coffee maker in the break room was close.

Louis tapped the tablet on the desk, and it glowed red to wakefulness, his fingerprint bringing up his case notes from the other day. He put the phone on speaker and took out a pad of paper and a pen. He stretched the fingers on his left hand; they felt a little better than yesterday despite hauling lunch. "Go ahead."

Watts listed off names and case numbers, promising to send in a copy the next day thought email.

Was Louis avoiding Will after feeling as vulnerable as a soft shelled tortoise from Balcuwitz's talk and keeping away from Beni and Reese because he didn't know how to handle the aftermath of them admitting a lack of maternal upbringing?

No. He was doing the obvious thing and avoiding his inbox.

And if the stack got higher overnight, he would make good on his mental promise to stake out his desk, NERF gun at the ready.