The World Can't Compare
Petty Talks

It had been two days, and he was ready to trust coffee again. All the poisons he knew of would have killed him by now, so it didn't matter that he only knew of one.

So it was, when the suggestion for coffee was made, he volunteered for the run.

If he realized his mistake, it was when he passed the archway… when the tray slipped from his hands. It struck the floor flat at about the same time his hands reached his eyes.

---

"He doesn't understand."

Ryan sighed as Jane slid through the door and past him, hastily shrugging on her jacket as she went. The sergeant hadn't been sure of this from the start, and the longer it dragged on the more worried he became. Not that he didn't like Neil… the technician was kind of cute in that neurotic, spazzy sort of way, but….

"Okay, so maybe he understands," he chose to amend his prior statement, "but when it comes to it, something isn't connecting properly."

"He's a little scared," the woman replied, watching Ryan from the corner of her eye. She cared, and it did bother her from time to time, but she didn't know what to do about it. Thus, she let it slide.

"He stood there for ten minutes – ten minutes," he paused to let the emphasis sink in, and to wonder why he bothered since she knew what he meant, and what he was getting at, "with his hands over his eyes."

"So… talk to him."

He often attempted to guess whether that was her conclusion because she didn't want to do so herself, or if she simply didn't know how to start. It was never a conclusive game.

"I have talked to him. Or tried. Every time I get close, he zones out. If we're in the open, he runs away," Ryan watched her reflection in the mirror, and smiled from where she could not see, "I have a novel idea! Since you have nothing better to do during the next twelve hours, how about you try talking to him?"

Jane turned to face him, with an expression that failed to confirm either of his theories, "Maybe I will."

A train of thought interrupted by a swift, though mildly difficult, kiss to the cheek, and Ryan's attention was distractedly following her as she hefted her rifle from its rack and left… though not before checking both ways of the corridor. It was a habit formed after an accident involving some poor soldier getting smacked in the head, and, despite himself, Ryan had to chuckle at the memory, having forgotten his initial attempt at guesswork.

---

Sentry duty was dull, unless one happened to have a friend along. It was in that instance that Jane was fortunate. Or so she had thought. Her attempt at getting Neil to talk had started with great difficulty, and the first two words from his mouth were a meek, I'm sorry. Apparently, he was under the impression that she could be angry with him for petty things.

It soon progressed, as Neil reverted to his talkative self, though Jane wasn't sure she liked the direction.

"It just seems unnatural," while there came a certain relief from admitting it, he was grateful, for once, to the regulations surrounding sentry duty. He was quite certain Jane was staring at him by now, and he had a viable reason for not returning the gaze.

"I mean, you know…" no answer, but he didn't really need one, "Why'd there be so many marriages in the past twenty centuries if it were no big deal?"

"I suppose adultery is the natural byproduct, then?" Jane sighed, watching the pair of flat shoes she noticed at a distance some five earlier ago pass by at their leisurely pace. Other than the few people who used the walkway as a shortcut no one came down here at midnight. No one cared. So, without fear of repercussions, she retired guarding for sitting and reflecting… usually. Tonight wasn't going well, "And cancer and acne are the tools of natural selection."

"I don't know," for the first time in three hours, Neil allowed the muscles in his neck to relax, and glanced at the cement below his feet, "I guess it's different, but legs…"

Jane blinked. Even for Neil, that was an odd thing to say. She looked up, and, having been graced with the back of his head, and that partly hidden from her vantage, leaned to peer around his knees. The woman who had just passed by in flat shoes… though, by the specific tone of her quite bare legs suggested she normally wore shoes with longer heels.

"She's pretty," Jane snorted.

"Who?" Neil snapped back in a futile attempt at insincere honesty.

"The girl in the short skirt; why don't you go talk to her?""

The tech glanced again, in part to conceal the warm, overwhelming red that so suddenly overtook his pale face, "No!"

"Fine, then I'll go talk to her," Jane was out of reach before he could properly respond to that, but he still tried.

"You can't just leave!"

That stalled her for a few moments, but only long enough for her reply.

"No one is going to try to break into a cryogenics freezer," she paused a second longer to add, "And if they do, you can shoot them."

Dumbstruck, Neil watched in horror as Jane jogged to catch up with the redhead before realizing that watching was probably a bad thing. So he waited, and eternity and a half later, he peeked.

Unfortunately, the woman in beige was looking at him, smiling in a way he didn't want to guess the meaning of. The poor industrial view became his reality once again; he didn't dare blink, especially when he heard the footfalls of his impending demise.

As it turned out, it was only Jane, who offered no explanation as she returned to her patch of the ground.

He was torn by the common sense to not ask and fallible curiosity.

"Well?"

The woman looked up at him and shrugged, "She's as far from your type as they fall."

Neil might have breathed a sigh of relief, but she hadn't finished.

"You're lucky, this time."

For he didn't know whether to be drawn to that sentiment, or very afraid.