By noon, we’re about halfway through setting up the code for accuracy analysis. Charles asks, “Want to grab a bite?”
We walk out Dreese head towards High Street.
“So, can I ask you a strange question?”
Uh-oh. “Go ahead.”
“That is a weird question?”
“Sometimes. That stuff with the river pirates on Sunday, the math you did and then your reaction when I asked what you’d done with George. And then last night it occurred to me that the suggestion you did for identifying the faulty runs was a very visual thing. And then this morning. That’s not how you normally code. So what happened to put you into such a different mood?”
He puts up his hands. “Hey, don’t get me wrong, I like it. I’m just— curious about how you got there.”
Is he thinking I’m on drugs? No. Not that tone of voice. That’s the tone— And it’s in his eyes too.
Jack: ‘I’ve caught him checking out the scenery a few times.’
Me: ‘I didn’t catch him at scenery checking.’
That’s because I was the scenery — I mean, George was.
…Aaand better say something. “Thanks. I’m not sure I can explain, though.”
And that’s the truth! Is this— Am I supposed to end in the kind of mess that George is in with Mark and Kate? Is Charles supposed to be—
“Hey, that’s cool. Just glad you’re happy.”
Is that disappointment in his eyes?
He continues, “So, want to go to ‘my’ place again?”
Accidentally suggestive and a reminder of Sunday and what he told me. He’s spending more effort on casual words than I’ve ever put into casual hair.
“Sure. That’s good stuff.”