#90

A and B in stacks. Day 2. Parapluie in hand. Open gamp, and maybe B is P. Bubbles like a backed-up drain. And. Modern thought tends elsewhere. And. The thin white cords from his pocket to ear. "Hump and dump." Provenance, Stephen, who doesn't keep a carrel. Silently, in jacket. Quarrel.

Open, *tinhg*! And Adrian makes his entrance. Head to toe in clinging clothes, a puddle in the elevator behind. And "Boys..." He rubs his glasses on his sleeve. "I am absolutely incapable of telling you whether it has rained. I live so resolutely apart from physical contingencies that my senses no longer trouble to inform me of them." Andy's laugh: a tilt in the left corner of his lips, and the corresponding eyebrow cocked.