A jarring, bell-like alarm blared several times.
Toris picked up his phone cautiously, and wondered why he had programmed it to produce such a violent sound.
Bringing the phone to his ear, he could hear the background noise; general street cacophony, the meshing of people, a fusion of collaged sound and movement, people and machines.
"Cześć…" began a hesitant voice. A Polish voice. And this was confusing, because Feliks was never hesitant.
Toris was equally at a loss for coherent words. "Hello?" he asked, and it was almost a question.
"Yeah. So, like, Happy Feast Day to us, I guess."
"I guess it is." Toris sighed.
"You sound tired. You know, you always sound tired, Toris."
"I'm sorry."
"You know," Feliks ignored his response completely, "We've known each other a long way back, am I right?"
"Mmm…" Toris affirmed. It was too early in the morning for this…
"Do you remember Casimir. He was a cool guy! And he's a saint now. Don't you feel, I don't know, proud?"
"Yeah, and kind of surprised. Not that he couldn't have been a saint on his own merits, but he was half Polish…" he said sarcastically.
"Hey! I'll have you know that JP2 was Polish, and is also a Saint now. Has there ever been a Lithuanian pope?"
"Well no. Not yet."
"It was a rhetorical question." Feliks said, in a semi-gloating-partly-teasing voice.
Toris thought he heard a familiar voice in the noise, behind Feliks. "Where are you?"
"That's not important. What are you doing today?"
"Umm…going to Mass."
"So, where are you going?"
Toris narrowed his eyes. "Feliks, I think I buy bread from the woman standing behind you."
"Oh? That's nice. Anyway, where are you going to Mass?"
Toris sighed again, defeated. "Cathedral, I guess. Why?"
"Well, I might join you."
"So you are here."
"Maybe."
"Oh, you definitely are." Toris laughed.
"Yeah. So, can I come over after?"
Toris thought of his less-than-spotless kitchen, and the mountain of housework he still had to do, and the stack of paperwork taller than Raivis.
"Yes," Toris relented, "What do you want for dinner?"
"Barščiai" Feliks said, without hesitation
"Did you just say 'barščiai'. You do realize that you just used a word out of my own language?"
"Yeah, you make the best borscht ever, even if it's actually called barszcz. Even if you get the name wrong, it's still delicious."
"Okay. Pancakes too?"
"Like, yeah. I thought that was implied."
"Okay. I guess I'll see you at Mass then. Bye."
"Happy Saint Casimir's Day. We're still pretty cool. I'll see you!"