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“You know, this would go a lot faster if you weren’t breathing down my
neck.”
“You know, you wouldn’t be doing this at all if you hadn’t dropped her.”
Rava resisted the urge to pull the mono-lens out of the jack in her
glasses and glare at him. He might have gotten better marks in school,
but she was the AI’s wrangler. “Why don’t you go back to the party and
see if you can learn something about fertility?” She lifted the cable
head and tried one more time.
“Why, you little—” Rage choked his voice, more than she had expected
from a random slam. She made a guess that his appeal to the reprocouncil didn’t go well.
Cordelia’s voice cut in, stopping what he was going to say. “It’s not
Rava’s fault. I did ask her to pick me up.”
“Yeah.” Rava focused on the cable, trying to get it aligned.
“Right.” Ludoviko snorted. “And then you dropped yourself.”
Cordelia sighed and Rava could almost imagine breath tickling her skin.
“If you’re going to blame anyone, blame Branson Conchord for running
into her.”
Rava didn’t bother answering. They’d been having the same
conversation for the last hour and Cordelia should know darn well what
Ludoviko’s answer would be.
LE PORTRAIT MAGAZINE
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