Interlocking Squares: Vincent (8)
Thursday 26 January 2006
Vincent deliberated... well, deliberately, weighing the pros and cons, considering every side of the question. It was no small decision, after all.
'So... which do you think? Curry fish-head meehoon or chicken and mushroom noodles?' he asked, as they made their way through the Linguistics Faculty parking lot.
Ching Juan rolled her eyes. 'For God's sake, Vincent, you're deciding what to eat for dinner, not whether to push the big red button. Make up your mind already!'
'I've heard they do good fish-head curry,' mused Vincent. 'But on the other hand, I had a bit of, er, digestive trouble with those leftover pizzas David brought back last night... what?'
Ching Juan had stopped. 'Isn't that someone leaning against your car?'
Ths figure detached itself from the car. 'Trick or treat.'
Vincent sighed. 'David. What are you doing here?'
David shrugged. 'Car broke down. Happened this morning. Luckily my last class was here, so I thought I'd scrounge a lift off you.'
'Haven't you got it fixed?' asked Ching Juan. 'Your car, I mean. I thought you said it wasn't a big deal.'
'Nope,' said David. 'I said it didn't look like it was a big deal. Appearances can be deceiving and all that, you know.'
Vincent looked from one to the other, feeling as though he was missing a large chunk of the conversation. 'Er... sorry?'
David only shrugged again, but Ching Juan seemed to be in a hurry to explain. 'He just happened to mention it to me. In between some story ideas for Collector. Email. I got it this afternoon.' She became suddenly interested in the cover of her notebook.
Vincent looked from one friend to the other again. 'Oh. You've been emailing her?' he asked David. He meant it to sound casual, but somehow it came out vaguely accusatory. He wondered if David had caught that. 'You never mentioned that.'
'Didn't I?' David contrived to sound mildly surprised. 'Probably slipped my mind. I didn't think you would find it to be of such burning interest.' He nodded towards Ching Juan. 'Anyway, I should've thought Ching Juan would've mentioned it. Didn't you?'
'Probably slipped my mind too,' said Ching Juan quickly. 'I mean, it's hardly a big deal, is it? Now come on! I'm hungry.'
'So am I,' said David. 'Haven't had dinner yet.' He slid smoothly into the front passenger seat uninvited as soon as Vincent unlocked the car doors. Vincent hesitated for a moment, wondering if he ought to say something... but, well, what could he say? Resigned, he got in and started the engine.
Ching Juan stuck her head between the two front seats as Vincent steered out of the parking lot. He nearly jumped, but it was David she addressed. 'I didn't know you had a class at Linguistics. Which one?'
'Technical report writing,' said David, 'or something like that. Apparently it's to make our engineering gibberish more intelligible to whatever management personnel we'll be reporting to once we get real jobs. Personally, I think it's a waste of time. Since when did those executive idiots care about anything technical besides the fact that it'll make them money? Or earn them a nice fat bonus? I bet they don't even pretend to read them. I bet they hand entire stacks of the things over to the old newspapermen as soon as they get them from their little engineering drones.'
'Could be,' said Ching Juan. 'I mean, even teachers do that. I used to have this Science teacher who'd mark our lab reports "Seen" without reading them. My lab group tried it once – faked a lab report. See, there was this guy in the next class whom everybody said had a thing for this girl in our class, only nobody could worm an admission out of him because he'd just look at them blankly and change the subject every time. So one recess me and the rest of my lab group, um, got ourselves into a place where he'd be sure to overhear us and we started – '
Vincent cleared his throat. 'Er, excuse me? Could the two of you... keep it down a little? I'm trying to concentrate on the road.'
'We were?' said Ching Juan. 'Um. Sorry.'
David reached out and fiddled idly with the radio. 'Hinting that you want a set of earplugs for your birthday, Vin-boy? You could've just said.'
Vincent fought the urge to slap David's hand away from the volume dial. 'That wasn't what I said. And for once, would you stop doing that?'
'Do what?' said David, now searching for a radio channel. 'Fill the inside of your car with some halfway decent music for once?'
'No! I mean, yes. And what do you mean, "for once"? This isn't the first time. Every... every damn time you get into this car you start messing around with the radio. Show some respect for once, for God's sake! You don't see me fiddling around with stuff in your car when you give me a lift, do you?'
'Does that make a difference?' said David, twisting the volume dial into eardrum-piercing regions. 'Because... put it this way, I drink beer, you don't. Because I like it and you don't. Doesn't mean I should stop because you don't. Or that you should start because I do.'
'... just think about it, have you ever seen – What?' Vincent's stream of righteous chastisement hit a dam wall. 'That's hardly – I mean, that's got nothing to do with what I was talking about, you're just – '
There was a tap on his shoulder. 'Er,' said Ching Juan. 'The bus station's just up ahead. You can drop me off there. I... just remembered, one of my housemates said she'd cook dinner tonight. So, um, maybe next time, guys.'
Vincent deliberated... well, deliberately, weighing the pros and cons, considering every side of the question. It was no small decision, after all.
'So... which do you think? Curry fish-head meehoon or chicken and mushroom noodles?' he asked, as they made their way through the Linguistics Faculty parking lot.
Ching Juan rolled her eyes. 'For God's sake, Vincent, you're deciding what to eat for dinner, not whether to push the big red button. Make up your mind already!'
'I've heard they do good fish-head curry,' mused Vincent. 'But on the other hand, I had a bit of, er, digestive trouble with those leftover pizzas David brought back last night... what?'
Ching Juan had stopped. 'Isn't that someone leaning against your car?'
Ths figure detached itself from the car. 'Trick or treat.'
Vincent sighed. 'David. What are you doing here?'
David shrugged. 'Car broke down. Happened this morning. Luckily my last class was here, so I thought I'd scrounge a lift off you.'
'Haven't you got it fixed?' asked Ching Juan. 'Your car, I mean. I thought you said it wasn't a big deal.'
'Nope,' said David. 'I said it didn't look like it was a big deal. Appearances can be deceiving and all that, you know.'
Vincent looked from one to the other, feeling as though he was missing a large chunk of the conversation. 'Er... sorry?'
David only shrugged again, but Ching Juan seemed to be in a hurry to explain. 'He just happened to mention it to me. In between some story ideas for Collector. Email. I got it this afternoon.' She became suddenly interested in the cover of her notebook.
Vincent looked from one friend to the other again. 'Oh. You've been emailing her?' he asked David. He meant it to sound casual, but somehow it came out vaguely accusatory. He wondered if David had caught that. 'You never mentioned that.'
'Didn't I?' David contrived to sound mildly surprised. 'Probably slipped my mind. I didn't think you would find it to be of such burning interest.' He nodded towards Ching Juan. 'Anyway, I should've thought Ching Juan would've mentioned it. Didn't you?'
'Probably slipped my mind too,' said Ching Juan quickly. 'I mean, it's hardly a big deal, is it? Now come on! I'm hungry.'
'So am I,' said David. 'Haven't had dinner yet.' He slid smoothly into the front passenger seat uninvited as soon as Vincent unlocked the car doors. Vincent hesitated for a moment, wondering if he ought to say something... but, well, what could he say? Resigned, he got in and started the engine.
Ching Juan stuck her head between the two front seats as Vincent steered out of the parking lot. He nearly jumped, but it was David she addressed. 'I didn't know you had a class at Linguistics. Which one?'
'Technical report writing,' said David, 'or something like that. Apparently it's to make our engineering gibberish more intelligible to whatever management personnel we'll be reporting to once we get real jobs. Personally, I think it's a waste of time. Since when did those executive idiots care about anything technical besides the fact that it'll make them money? Or earn them a nice fat bonus? I bet they don't even pretend to read them. I bet they hand entire stacks of the things over to the old newspapermen as soon as they get them from their little engineering drones.'
'Could be,' said Ching Juan. 'I mean, even teachers do that. I used to have this Science teacher who'd mark our lab reports "Seen" without reading them. My lab group tried it once – faked a lab report. See, there was this guy in the next class whom everybody said had a thing for this girl in our class, only nobody could worm an admission out of him because he'd just look at them blankly and change the subject every time. So one recess me and the rest of my lab group, um, got ourselves into a place where he'd be sure to overhear us and we started – '
Vincent cleared his throat. 'Er, excuse me? Could the two of you... keep it down a little? I'm trying to concentrate on the road.'
'We were?' said Ching Juan. 'Um. Sorry.'
David reached out and fiddled idly with the radio. 'Hinting that you want a set of earplugs for your birthday, Vin-boy? You could've just said.'
Vincent fought the urge to slap David's hand away from the volume dial. 'That wasn't what I said. And for once, would you stop doing that?'
'Do what?' said David, now searching for a radio channel. 'Fill the inside of your car with some halfway decent music for once?'
'No! I mean, yes. And what do you mean, "for once"? This isn't the first time. Every... every damn time you get into this car you start messing around with the radio. Show some respect for once, for God's sake! You don't see me fiddling around with stuff in your car when you give me a lift, do you?'
'Does that make a difference?' said David, twisting the volume dial into eardrum-piercing regions. 'Because... put it this way, I drink beer, you don't. Because I like it and you don't. Doesn't mean I should stop because you don't. Or that you should start because I do.'
'... just think about it, have you ever seen – What?' Vincent's stream of righteous chastisement hit a dam wall. 'That's hardly – I mean, that's got nothing to do with what I was talking about, you're just – '
There was a tap on his shoulder. 'Er,' said Ching Juan. 'The bus station's just up ahead. You can drop me off there. I... just remembered, one of my housemates said she'd cook dinner tonight. So, um, maybe next time, guys.'