by Jester Joker
We're trained to fight. Ceaseless hours, learning to hone a craft and repeat it until it becomes second nature, as involuntary as putting your feet forward one at a time. But they didn't train us to handle boredom. I hate to admit this is the one area in which I am envious of Will. He never has to be bored.
I might as well have been given the order "Hurry up and wait!" for all I'm doing at the moment. Okay, so there's a laundry list of things that we -- or, more likely, I -- need to do to get settled in the city. We're supposed to get in touch with the local contact of our bosses, we should at some point get on speaking terms with the mayor and chief of police. Thanks to the recent election, that one will be a whole lot easier. They might even welcome us here these days. Fancy that.
I get a call that I was expecting sooner or later. My doctor. "What's up?" That wasn't intended to sound like a Bugs Bunny reference. I just suck at formalities.
"Hello, Alfhild. You got everything you need?"
"Yeah."
"Take today's dosage yet?"
"Going to as soon as I hang up."
"Need any refills?"
"Not at the moment."
"Feel okay?"
"Sure."
"All right. Call me if you need anything." We both hang up. Yay for father figures.