Declan has an impenetrable accent, like he's chewing on peat as he talks, but he's pretty interesting -- he's doing something on something that may or may not involve the human factors of online discourse, and even though Oz isn't quite sure what that means, the guy's face lights up when Oz tells him about the BBS he used to run off his Amiga, so that's pretty cool.
His girlfriend Lucia has cool shoes and a killer green dress but beyond that there isn't very much *to* her. She just nods and drinks a lot as Declan gets his arm around Oz's shoulder and breathes peppermint-breath all over his cheek and demands technical details.
Baud rate, number of members, Usenet gateway: It's all coming back to Oz, and he gets time to munch away on some really delicious pistachio and goat cheese crisps while Declan tries to explain his thesis about something-something-gimme a drink, darling-something.
It's been forever and a half since Oz was at a party and this one's pretty cool. After Declan heads off to find the toilet, Oz ends up chatting with a tall spinstery-looking woman who's actually a fashion editor somewhere and delighted to learn that young men still go to tailors.
From the glances he can grab, Giles looks happy, halfway across the room and laughing his head off.
Oz pours Spinster Fashionista another glass of wine and keeps munching.
Meaghan has a lot of rather funny stories about the older librarians' confusion with computers--one old chap pointing the mouse at the screen like a television remote, another asking if he'd lose his e-mail when he turned the computer off--and Giles laughs a little more than he probably should. Oz has been giving him lessons on the computer they bought a few weeks ago, and Giles is beginning to feel rather expert. The sheer quantity of texts he can find online, and the speed of it, more than make up for the lack of paper-smell. He's got over twenty websites bookmarked now, and his very own e-mail account, and he knows what a URL is and what "spam" means.
"I think sometimes they're being stupid to just to obstruct me," Meaghan says. "I think they don't want the manuscripts accessible."
"Probably not," Giles says, raising his glass to his mouth before he remembers there's wine in it. Meaghan gave it to him, and he doesn't know her quite well enough to explain. He sets it down next to a plant. "There's something greed-inspiring about rare things. In the middle ages the Franciscans used to chain books to the shelves in their monastic libraries."
Ten minutes later, they're talking about whether the easier access of digitization compensates for the loss of detail--paper textures are obscured and colors don't always show true on a computer screen. "You ought to come back to the Library, Rupert," Meaghan says. "If you want to, I think I could pull a string here and there."
"God yes," Giles says before he thinks. Even before he resigned from the Watchers, his long stretch of unemployment was making him uneasy. "I'd - I'd have to talk about it with my partner, with Oz, but yes. Tentatively. Yes." Having a routine again, and work to do, work that he loves more than he ever loved being a Watcher. "Thank you." It'll mean spending a lot of time away from Oz. But that's for the best, too. They're bound to quarrel if they're never out of each other's sight.
"Well, one good turn and all that. You hired me first." She smiles, and he remembers her as a student, too scared to unfold a fourteenth-century letter. "So tell me about this Oz. Is he here? Did you meet in America?"
There's nothing quite as nice, Giles thinks, as being asked to talk about one's favorite subject.
His girlfriend Lucia has cool shoes and a killer green dress but beyond that there isn't very much *to* her. She just nods and drinks a lot as Declan gets his arm around Oz's shoulder and breathes peppermint-breath all over his cheek and demands technical details.
Baud rate, number of members, Usenet gateway: It's all coming back to Oz, and he gets time to munch away on some really delicious pistachio and goat cheese crisps while Declan tries to explain his thesis about something-something-gimme a drink, darling-something.
It's been forever and a half since Oz was at a party and this one's pretty cool. After Declan heads off to find the toilet, Oz ends up chatting with a tall spinstery-looking woman who's actually a fashion editor somewhere and delighted to learn that young men still go to tailors.
From the glances he can grab, Giles looks happy, halfway across the room and laughing his head off.
Oz pours Spinster Fashionista another glass of wine and keeps munching.
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"I think sometimes they're being stupid to just to obstruct me," Meaghan says. "I think they don't want the manuscripts accessible."
"Probably not," Giles says, raising his glass to his mouth before he remembers there's wine in it. Meaghan gave it to him, and he doesn't know her quite well enough to explain. He sets it down next to a plant. "There's something greed-inspiring about rare things. In the middle ages the Franciscans used to chain books to the shelves in their monastic libraries."
Ten minutes later, they're talking about whether the easier access of digitization compensates for the loss of detail--paper textures are obscured and colors don't always show true on a computer screen. "You ought to come back to the Library, Rupert," Meaghan says. "If you want to, I think I could pull a string here and there."
"God yes," Giles says before he thinks. Even before he resigned from the Watchers, his long stretch of unemployment was making him uneasy. "I'd - I'd have to talk about it with my partner, with Oz, but yes. Tentatively. Yes." Having a routine again, and work to do, work that he loves more than he ever loved being a Watcher. "Thank you." It'll mean spending a lot of time away from Oz. But that's for the best, too. They're bound to quarrel if they're never out of each other's sight.
"Well, one good turn and all that. You hired me first." She smiles, and he remembers her as a student, too scared to unfold a fourteenth-century letter. "So tell me about this Oz. Is he here? Did you meet in America?"
There's nothing quite as nice, Giles thinks, as being asked to talk about one's favorite subject.
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