Some well-deserved relaxation [for Jubilee]
The lobby of the Nexus salon where Ali was waiting for Jubilee was nowhere near as elegant as the rooms beyond the formidable receptionist's desk. It was little better than perfunctory, to be precise: the chairs were not uncomfortable, but they were no place to sit long. This, Ali hoped, was to discourage people from loitering; though a worse motivation might be an aim to make the treatments within seem more effective by making clients a little more uncomfortable before sessions begin. The magazines were almost criminally out of date. Ali had found a few that would, should they wander out into the Nexus at large, fetch tidy sums at antique shops. The coffee was burnt. Not that Ali had tasted any; the smell filled the room. And then, the worst part: all the brochures of the comforts and marvels within, so tantalizingly within reach and yet, denied.
That is to say, Ali really hoped Jubilee would arrive soon, and not just because they had so much catching up to do.
That is to say, Ali really hoped Jubilee would arrive soon, and not just because they had so much catching up to do.