Conversations With Smith
by Tanathir (tanathir_canathel@yahoo.com)
Pairing: Smith/Original Female Character
Rated R for language and implied nookyful situations
Summary: Work-in-Progress. Agent Smith is ordered to learn from a human. Gemini is a Watcher, a human aware of but still plugged into the Matrix. Timeframe: before the events in the 1999 Matrix movie.
Chapter Summary: Smith and Gemini's night out.
Disclaimer: The Matrix belongs to Larry and Andy Wachowski and to Warner Bros. The only things the author owns are Gemini and the Watchers. The author certainly does not own Smith.
Part Twenty-Five: The Matrix at Large, Part One
Gemini regarded herself in the mirror. Not bad for thirty-two. Hard to believe she'd been a Watcher for ten years. She wondered if anyone else noticed or would make the effort to celebrate on her behalf. Probably not. Ephram would have remembered.
Why did she have to think of him again? The way Jones had said his name made her want to get violent. Rip that smug expression from the Agent's face. Ephram deserved the highest respect. His demise had been a huge blow to the Watchers. It had been a huge blow to her personally. "The good die young" was all too true. Such an awful concept.
Once her initial shock was gone and she could think about Smith's suggestion, Gemini refused. His proposal had been unexpected. The Agent simply stood while she tried to explain why she didn't want to go. She ended up sounding whiny. She hated whiny. So she agreed to go along with Smith's idea. She hadn't realized how much more insight into human psychology Smith had these days. Removing herself from the anxious atmosphere of her apartment was actually a good idea. However temporary, forgetting their sad situation would be pleasant. Gemini didn't want to think about Smith's future right now. She would go out tonight. She would enjoy her state of denial.
Not that it ever lasted long. She'd watched Smith communicate with the Agents and couldn't suppress a shiver. He always did things to remind her what he was. She knew he and the Agents were doing something there in her kitchen, but all she saw was three beings totally oblivious to the world around them. Smith was like a mannequin. She wished she knew what had gone on between the three; it must have been some kind of showdown, because afterward the others were much more reverent of Smith. He was rightfully dominant.
With a sigh, Gemini went back to evaluating herself. She was taller than average, and though she'd recently grown a bit around the hips, she had always been slender. Not exceptionally endowed, but she tried not to waste time cursing her cup size. She had enough to make this corset and dress look good. Her fingers trailed down her sides, feeling the contrast between constricted torso and flowing skirt beneath. Who knew she could pull off such a look? It made her fair skin look pretty instead of pasty. It smelled weekly of old cotton. Almost reverently, she traced fingertips across the flesh above her corset. Small sensitive goose bumps formed when she recalled how Smith's hand felt in that very same place. Involuntarily her lips parted. She tasted her lipstick. Her gaze met the mirror. She blinked in slight surprise at her expression. Pull yourself out of it, girl.
Her eyes weren't bad. They held no definite color of their own. So grey. She didn't like that. They certainly couldn't match the incredible blue of Smith's eyes. But, she had received compliments on her eyes, so she supposed they were fine. Her hair...well, her hair was a living entity unto itself. A grumpy living entity. Fortunately, it had agreed to submit to her styling attempts tonight. Although blondes were supposed to have more fun, she was better as a brunette. She'd learned the hard way. Never again would the Blonde Hair Dye Disaster from sixteen years ago be repeated.
A club would be just about right for a night out, she thought. One where black was common. The perfect excuse to show off things she'd almost forgotten she had. Smith apparently saw no reason to plan beyond coming up with the idea of going out. He was content to let Gemini decide where to go. Therefore, he had no right to complain when he discovered their destination. She grinned at her reflection.
Submitting himself to her fashion sense, as Smith put it, made her chuckle. She remembered her last attempt to dress him. Fortunately, a deeper foray into her belongings yielded better results than the pink shirt. Was being grateful toward one's ex a sign of the Apocalypse? Derek, henceforth thought of in reference only as "the asshat-breeding experiment gone wrong," had actually possessed good fashion sense. Poor Derek. Poor world, poor Matrix for having to house such a dink. She actually had forgiven him, but once in a while she slipped up on remaining resentment.
It was time for her Agent's submission. One last look in the mirror showed that she was as neat and primped as she was going to get tonight. Gemini gathered up the clothing she'd found and went in search of Smith.
He stood in the middle of her living room. She couldn't follow what he was staring at, if anything. Rather than try to imagine what churned through Smith's mind, she held out the clothes to him. "Your turn to get ready. This is what you get to submit yourself to."
Smith looked at her. He scowled. What now? she wondered. Smith's eyes traveled slowly down her body, stopping somewhere around her waist. Blushing, she hoped she didn't melt on the spot from the heat of his gaze. Did he approve? Did it matter what she wore? Certainly Smith was aroused when they were intimate, but she wasn't sure if he found her attractive. Maybe he was irritated that he did?
He took the clothes, held them like a newly deceased thing. "I am not wearing this."
She couldn't see why. It was a dark blue T-shirt with black jeans. Top it off with a superbly cut, expensive black leather jacket, and surely Smith could see its advantage over the Pepto Bismol shirt. It seemed perfectly reasonable clothing to wear on a night out. Gemini sighed again. This was Smith's idea to begin with! If he was refusing to go out now, after she'd laced herself into this corset, he had another thing coming...
"You'll wear it, or I'll tell Brown and Jones that the cat sleeps on your lap."
His subsequent low growl and sigh satisfied her that Smith would comply. She grinned. She'd never blackmailed a machine before. Not that she had a means to tell Jones and Brown, but the thought was inspired.
Smith showed his modest side again by going to her bathroom to change. Whether it was true modesty, or some other personality quirk, she couldn't guess. It was still sweet.
While she waited, Gemini watched the cat. Circuit had taken over the comfy chair again. It still amazed her, no matter how many cats she had over the years, how they all made sleep their hobby. Hadn't the cat sensed the tension in her kitchen earlier? Circuit probably didn't care. Cats were good at not caring, too. Gemini approached the little grey mammal. Circuit raised one eyelid. She accepted the human's gentle pats and even nudged her with a cool, wet nose. For her part, the human was glad that the cat wasn't ignoring her completely anymore. She didn't want to compete with Smith for feline affections.
Smith emerged from the bathroom. Gemini's brain struggled to combine more than one syllable. If Smith wearing a suit made her look twice, Smith in a leather jacket made her stare. He was stunning. Gemini was tempted for a moment to forget going out and just lock herself in the bedroom with Smith. Yes. A slow Smithly striptease was sounding very nice right about now.
He caught her expression. "You have succumbed to your hormones again."
She folded her arms. "So? You look completely edible. There's something about a man in leather...or rather, certain men...or rather, certain sentient programs..."
Smith sneered and walked past her to rouse Circuit from her nap. He sat in the cat's place with a sour look, moving only an eyebrow when the cat reclaimed his lap. Finally choosing to ignore the diminutive panther, Smith looked at Gemini again. He stared. It was rude. It made her skin heat.
His eyes were feral. For a moment she considered being afraid, but something about the primitive glow in Smith's eyes rooted her to the spot. He looked her up and down, like any chauvinist male, but...God, but there was something inside her that answered to it. She should fight it. If she succumbed to the wild notions she imagined swirling behind Smith's eyes, she would lose some of her civilized self.
"You are spilling out of your dress."
"I'm supposed to."
"It is not appropriate to show others...so...much."
"It's not really...that much." She fidgeted with the lacing just below the area in question. "It's not for others, anyway. No one will notice. People wear stuff racier than this all the time."
"You don't."
"You're saying I shouldn't?"
"I am saying that you don't."
She sighed through a clenched jaw. "Why are you sitting down?"
"My database informs me that females require more time on average to prepare than males."
"That's a stereotype, and I'm offended. I'm ready to go now."
As though it was a great imposition for him, Smith stood, bumping Circuit off his lap, and headed toward the door. Gemini sucked in her breath involuntarily as he strode by. Did she smell sandalwood? Impossible. Agents didn't smell like sandalwood. Did they?
Smith opened the door and stood waiting for her. Suddenly nervous, Gemini smoothed out imaginary wrinkles in her skirt and checked that her corset was just tight enough. Her black nail polish was sufficiently dry, and her hair was still decent. She ignored Smith's air of irritation. Whatever had him upset was more than impatience.
Gemini stepped out the door. She stopped. Smith caught her as she staggered backward. Something wasn't right. Something was jarring her. She felt sick. It was as though the world stood still and she swirled from the inside out. Sort of the opposite of feeling drunk. Or the same. It was something.
"My internal chronometer is resetting," Smith said.
Now she knew what was wrong. She'd been unconsciously slowing time within her apartment. Her place existed more outside of time than she'd realized.
"Your ability?" Smith murmured close to her ear. She nodded, and he exhaled grumpily. She thought she smelled sandalwood again. "Altering the Matrix is very disruptive," he said. "You should not have..."
"I altered it so we could have more time together."
That shut him up. Gemini turned in his arms to see his face. He wasn't wearing his glasses, but his face was still closed away from her. Sadness crept back over her. There was no escaping their situation. Even if she altered time for the entire neighborhood or the whole city, she couldn't stop it entirely. Time was its own force. She'd never be able to provide enough time for them.
She touched Smith's face. He blinked and focused on her. Smiling for a moment at the thought that he was adopting her mannerisms, she reached over and plucked his earpiece out. "This was your suggestion. Let's go."
They walked. Gemini didn't own a car. She chatted about their destination; a local club called, of all things, The Damnce Club. Bad cliche! she thought. No treat for you! But it was close by. No way was she walking very far in these boots.
The evening was nice. The Matrix graced them with one of those rare early spring warm spells. She remarked about it to Smith, who commented that such unusually warm evenings often meant a storm was soon to come. Gemini teased him about his doom and gloom attitude. He merely took it, as though he would eventually be proven right. Maybe he would. It rained a lot in the Matrix.
A few people were still out tonight, finishing errands or simply enjoying the weather. Gemini felt she knew all of them. It wasn't exactly as though a Watcher was meant to oversee everything, but she felt so nonetheless. Sometimes she felt protective of it all.
Gemini felt more in balance than she had for days. She watched a man window-shopping. Even the way he moved was familiar. This was what life should be: this small day to day living, only possible now inside the Matrix. Being a coppertop wasn't so bad.
The man turned around. He'd shaved his mustache, but she still recognized him. Smith's quick reflexes were the only things that kept him from plowing into Gemini when she stopped in her tracks. He gripped her shoulders. She suspected he was prepared to make some snide remark, but he never did. He must have seen.
"Scorpio!" She ran across the street after him. "Where the hell have you been? You go all schizo, run out on me, and now you're shopping? Tyger said the Agents took you, and I thought..."
"I think you have me confused with someone else, Miss," he said. His voice was kind and soft. So unlike Scorpio.
She gaped. "But, you...Scorpio..." She shook her head. "Uh-uh. Not falling for it. You jerk, you owe me answers!" She gripped his arm to keep him turned toward her. "Don't you even fucking care about Tommy?"
He actually blanched. "My name is Hank. I'm sorry, I don't know you. Um..." He looked up. Smith was approaching. "I don't think your boyfriend likes you talking to me. I'd better go. Have a nice evening, and I hope you find...Scorpio. Or maybe not. He doesn't sound all that pleasant." He glanced at Smith again, who by now was only a few feet away. "Take care, Miss."
She watched him go. "...the hell?"
"Reinsertion."
"What?"
"His memory of this encounter will most likely be removed as well, lest he start to recall who he was."
Uneasily, she folded her arms around her middle. "The Mainframe did that? It...gave Scorpio amnesia?"
"He is no longer Scorpio."
"Right. He's...Hank. Smith, that's creepy."
"He is a warning to the Watchers."
No kidding. Did the Watchers need such a warning? Tommy might have. Because they were supposed to be protected, Gemini guessed that most Watchers didn't think of potential dangers. The Resistance didn't have that luxury. Neither did the Watchers, really. Whatever bargain or sacrifice had been made was forgotten. Taken for granted. Gemini's mind hurt. The Watchers were even more susceptible to the whims of the Mainframe than unplugged humans.
She rubbed her forehead. "Shit." She looked up at Smith. "You've seen this before?" At his slight nod, she sighed. "So, this is another power trip for the Mainframe. It can just...re-plug...re-"
"Reinsert."
"Dammit, Smith, if I hadn't spent so much time on these clothes, I'd say let's go back home and hide. But we can't hide, can we? That's the point. That's the warning."
"You should have expected it, Gemini. The Mainframe..."
She started walking again. "Shut up. We're out to forget that kind of stuff. I'm going to either drink or dance away my worries tonight. Maybe both. Come on, you're my chaperone..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
by Tanathir (tanathir_canathel@yahoo.com)
Pairing: Smith/Original Female Character
Rated R for language and implied nookyful situations
Summary: Work-in-Progress. Agent Smith is ordered to learn from a human. Gemini is a Watcher, a human aware of but still plugged into the Matrix. Timeframe: before the events in the 1999 Matrix movie.
Chapter Summary: Smith and Gemini's night out.
Disclaimer: The Matrix belongs to Larry and Andy Wachowski and to Warner Bros. The only things the author owns are Gemini and the Watchers. The author certainly does not own Smith.
Part Twenty-Five: The Matrix at Large, Part One
Gemini regarded herself in the mirror. Not bad for thirty-two. Hard to believe she'd been a Watcher for ten years. She wondered if anyone else noticed or would make the effort to celebrate on her behalf. Probably not. Ephram would have remembered.
Why did she have to think of him again? The way Jones had said his name made her want to get violent. Rip that smug expression from the Agent's face. Ephram deserved the highest respect. His demise had been a huge blow to the Watchers. It had been a huge blow to her personally. "The good die young" was all too true. Such an awful concept.
Once her initial shock was gone and she could think about Smith's suggestion, Gemini refused. His proposal had been unexpected. The Agent simply stood while she tried to explain why she didn't want to go. She ended up sounding whiny. She hated whiny. So she agreed to go along with Smith's idea. She hadn't realized how much more insight into human psychology Smith had these days. Removing herself from the anxious atmosphere of her apartment was actually a good idea. However temporary, forgetting their sad situation would be pleasant. Gemini didn't want to think about Smith's future right now. She would go out tonight. She would enjoy her state of denial.
Not that it ever lasted long. She'd watched Smith communicate with the Agents and couldn't suppress a shiver. He always did things to remind her what he was. She knew he and the Agents were doing something there in her kitchen, but all she saw was three beings totally oblivious to the world around them. Smith was like a mannequin. She wished she knew what had gone on between the three; it must have been some kind of showdown, because afterward the others were much more reverent of Smith. He was rightfully dominant.
With a sigh, Gemini went back to evaluating herself. She was taller than average, and though she'd recently grown a bit around the hips, she had always been slender. Not exceptionally endowed, but she tried not to waste time cursing her cup size. She had enough to make this corset and dress look good. Her fingers trailed down her sides, feeling the contrast between constricted torso and flowing skirt beneath. Who knew she could pull off such a look? It made her fair skin look pretty instead of pasty. It smelled weekly of old cotton. Almost reverently, she traced fingertips across the flesh above her corset. Small sensitive goose bumps formed when she recalled how Smith's hand felt in that very same place. Involuntarily her lips parted. She tasted her lipstick. Her gaze met the mirror. She blinked in slight surprise at her expression. Pull yourself out of it, girl.
Her eyes weren't bad. They held no definite color of their own. So grey. She didn't like that. They certainly couldn't match the incredible blue of Smith's eyes. But, she had received compliments on her eyes, so she supposed they were fine. Her hair...well, her hair was a living entity unto itself. A grumpy living entity. Fortunately, it had agreed to submit to her styling attempts tonight. Although blondes were supposed to have more fun, she was better as a brunette. She'd learned the hard way. Never again would the Blonde Hair Dye Disaster from sixteen years ago be repeated.
A club would be just about right for a night out, she thought. One where black was common. The perfect excuse to show off things she'd almost forgotten she had. Smith apparently saw no reason to plan beyond coming up with the idea of going out. He was content to let Gemini decide where to go. Therefore, he had no right to complain when he discovered their destination. She grinned at her reflection.
Submitting himself to her fashion sense, as Smith put it, made her chuckle. She remembered her last attempt to dress him. Fortunately, a deeper foray into her belongings yielded better results than the pink shirt. Was being grateful toward one's ex a sign of the Apocalypse? Derek, henceforth thought of in reference only as "the asshat-breeding experiment gone wrong," had actually possessed good fashion sense. Poor Derek. Poor world, poor Matrix for having to house such a dink. She actually had forgiven him, but once in a while she slipped up on remaining resentment.
It was time for her Agent's submission. One last look in the mirror showed that she was as neat and primped as she was going to get tonight. Gemini gathered up the clothing she'd found and went in search of Smith.
He stood in the middle of her living room. She couldn't follow what he was staring at, if anything. Rather than try to imagine what churned through Smith's mind, she held out the clothes to him. "Your turn to get ready. This is what you get to submit yourself to."
Smith looked at her. He scowled. What now? she wondered. Smith's eyes traveled slowly down her body, stopping somewhere around her waist. Blushing, she hoped she didn't melt on the spot from the heat of his gaze. Did he approve? Did it matter what she wore? Certainly Smith was aroused when they were intimate, but she wasn't sure if he found her attractive. Maybe he was irritated that he did?
He took the clothes, held them like a newly deceased thing. "I am not wearing this."
She couldn't see why. It was a dark blue T-shirt with black jeans. Top it off with a superbly cut, expensive black leather jacket, and surely Smith could see its advantage over the Pepto Bismol shirt. It seemed perfectly reasonable clothing to wear on a night out. Gemini sighed again. This was Smith's idea to begin with! If he was refusing to go out now, after she'd laced herself into this corset, he had another thing coming...
"You'll wear it, or I'll tell Brown and Jones that the cat sleeps on your lap."
His subsequent low growl and sigh satisfied her that Smith would comply. She grinned. She'd never blackmailed a machine before. Not that she had a means to tell Jones and Brown, but the thought was inspired.
Smith showed his modest side again by going to her bathroom to change. Whether it was true modesty, or some other personality quirk, she couldn't guess. It was still sweet.
While she waited, Gemini watched the cat. Circuit had taken over the comfy chair again. It still amazed her, no matter how many cats she had over the years, how they all made sleep their hobby. Hadn't the cat sensed the tension in her kitchen earlier? Circuit probably didn't care. Cats were good at not caring, too. Gemini approached the little grey mammal. Circuit raised one eyelid. She accepted the human's gentle pats and even nudged her with a cool, wet nose. For her part, the human was glad that the cat wasn't ignoring her completely anymore. She didn't want to compete with Smith for feline affections.
Smith emerged from the bathroom. Gemini's brain struggled to combine more than one syllable. If Smith wearing a suit made her look twice, Smith in a leather jacket made her stare. He was stunning. Gemini was tempted for a moment to forget going out and just lock herself in the bedroom with Smith. Yes. A slow Smithly striptease was sounding very nice right about now.
He caught her expression. "You have succumbed to your hormones again."
She folded her arms. "So? You look completely edible. There's something about a man in leather...or rather, certain men...or rather, certain sentient programs..."
Smith sneered and walked past her to rouse Circuit from her nap. He sat in the cat's place with a sour look, moving only an eyebrow when the cat reclaimed his lap. Finally choosing to ignore the diminutive panther, Smith looked at Gemini again. He stared. It was rude. It made her skin heat.
His eyes were feral. For a moment she considered being afraid, but something about the primitive glow in Smith's eyes rooted her to the spot. He looked her up and down, like any chauvinist male, but...God, but there was something inside her that answered to it. She should fight it. If she succumbed to the wild notions she imagined swirling behind Smith's eyes, she would lose some of her civilized self.
"You are spilling out of your dress."
"I'm supposed to."
"It is not appropriate to show others...so...much."
"It's not really...that much." She fidgeted with the lacing just below the area in question. "It's not for others, anyway. No one will notice. People wear stuff racier than this all the time."
"You don't."
"You're saying I shouldn't?"
"I am saying that you don't."
She sighed through a clenched jaw. "Why are you sitting down?"
"My database informs me that females require more time on average to prepare than males."
"That's a stereotype, and I'm offended. I'm ready to go now."
As though it was a great imposition for him, Smith stood, bumping Circuit off his lap, and headed toward the door. Gemini sucked in her breath involuntarily as he strode by. Did she smell sandalwood? Impossible. Agents didn't smell like sandalwood. Did they?
Smith opened the door and stood waiting for her. Suddenly nervous, Gemini smoothed out imaginary wrinkles in her skirt and checked that her corset was just tight enough. Her black nail polish was sufficiently dry, and her hair was still decent. She ignored Smith's air of irritation. Whatever had him upset was more than impatience.
Gemini stepped out the door. She stopped. Smith caught her as she staggered backward. Something wasn't right. Something was jarring her. She felt sick. It was as though the world stood still and she swirled from the inside out. Sort of the opposite of feeling drunk. Or the same. It was something.
"My internal chronometer is resetting," Smith said.
Now she knew what was wrong. She'd been unconsciously slowing time within her apartment. Her place existed more outside of time than she'd realized.
"Your ability?" Smith murmured close to her ear. She nodded, and he exhaled grumpily. She thought she smelled sandalwood again. "Altering the Matrix is very disruptive," he said. "You should not have..."
"I altered it so we could have more time together."
That shut him up. Gemini turned in his arms to see his face. He wasn't wearing his glasses, but his face was still closed away from her. Sadness crept back over her. There was no escaping their situation. Even if she altered time for the entire neighborhood or the whole city, she couldn't stop it entirely. Time was its own force. She'd never be able to provide enough time for them.
She touched Smith's face. He blinked and focused on her. Smiling for a moment at the thought that he was adopting her mannerisms, she reached over and plucked his earpiece out. "This was your suggestion. Let's go."
They walked. Gemini didn't own a car. She chatted about their destination; a local club called, of all things, The Damnce Club. Bad cliche! she thought. No treat for you! But it was close by. No way was she walking very far in these boots.
The evening was nice. The Matrix graced them with one of those rare early spring warm spells. She remarked about it to Smith, who commented that such unusually warm evenings often meant a storm was soon to come. Gemini teased him about his doom and gloom attitude. He merely took it, as though he would eventually be proven right. Maybe he would. It rained a lot in the Matrix.
A few people were still out tonight, finishing errands or simply enjoying the weather. Gemini felt she knew all of them. It wasn't exactly as though a Watcher was meant to oversee everything, but she felt so nonetheless. Sometimes she felt protective of it all.
Gemini felt more in balance than she had for days. She watched a man window-shopping. Even the way he moved was familiar. This was what life should be: this small day to day living, only possible now inside the Matrix. Being a coppertop wasn't so bad.
The man turned around. He'd shaved his mustache, but she still recognized him. Smith's quick reflexes were the only things that kept him from plowing into Gemini when she stopped in her tracks. He gripped her shoulders. She suspected he was prepared to make some snide remark, but he never did. He must have seen.
"Scorpio!" She ran across the street after him. "Where the hell have you been? You go all schizo, run out on me, and now you're shopping? Tyger said the Agents took you, and I thought..."
"I think you have me confused with someone else, Miss," he said. His voice was kind and soft. So unlike Scorpio.
She gaped. "But, you...Scorpio..." She shook her head. "Uh-uh. Not falling for it. You jerk, you owe me answers!" She gripped his arm to keep him turned toward her. "Don't you even fucking care about Tommy?"
He actually blanched. "My name is Hank. I'm sorry, I don't know you. Um..." He looked up. Smith was approaching. "I don't think your boyfriend likes you talking to me. I'd better go. Have a nice evening, and I hope you find...Scorpio. Or maybe not. He doesn't sound all that pleasant." He glanced at Smith again, who by now was only a few feet away. "Take care, Miss."
She watched him go. "...the hell?"
"Reinsertion."
"What?"
"His memory of this encounter will most likely be removed as well, lest he start to recall who he was."
Uneasily, she folded her arms around her middle. "The Mainframe did that? It...gave Scorpio amnesia?"
"He is no longer Scorpio."
"Right. He's...Hank. Smith, that's creepy."
"He is a warning to the Watchers."
No kidding. Did the Watchers need such a warning? Tommy might have. Because they were supposed to be protected, Gemini guessed that most Watchers didn't think of potential dangers. The Resistance didn't have that luxury. Neither did the Watchers, really. Whatever bargain or sacrifice had been made was forgotten. Taken for granted. Gemini's mind hurt. The Watchers were even more susceptible to the whims of the Mainframe than unplugged humans.
She rubbed her forehead. "Shit." She looked up at Smith. "You've seen this before?" At his slight nod, she sighed. "So, this is another power trip for the Mainframe. It can just...re-plug...re-"
"Reinsert."
"Dammit, Smith, if I hadn't spent so much time on these clothes, I'd say let's go back home and hide. But we can't hide, can we? That's the point. That's the warning."
"You should have expected it, Gemini. The Mainframe..."
She started walking again. "Shut up. We're out to forget that kind of stuff. I'm going to either drink or dance away my worries tonight. Maybe both. Come on, you're my chaperone..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~