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Meg doesn't often wind up in Milliways in the morning. But she did today, and she ran into Laura, and it seemed high time they called their own bluffs and actually went to see a play, instead of just talking about it for months. Meg's roommates aren't awake yet, so there won't have to be any awkward explanations of how Laura suddenly arrived in their apartment, it's a beautiful fall day . . .

The only slight wrinkle is that it's a weekday, and Meg has classes. But it's easy enough to say that Laura is a prospective student, visiting McGill to see if it's a place she'd like to enroll. People do it all the time -- Meg did it, the year she applied. There are tours with students, and brochures about programs, and admissions couselors who are happy to answer questions, chances to eat in one of the dining halls, and Laura can even sit in on a class, if she likes.

Then there's a very quick not-quite-a-dinner before the play. "Just a snack, really," Meg says. "Alain's going to meet us back at the apartment for dinner after." (He's seen this production somewhere in the neighborhood of a dozen times already, and he has work to finish that evening.)

They have good seats, especially considering Meg only called to reserve them this morning, and the play goes well -- Meg's heard the horror stories about the night the understudy for Goneril forgot half her lines, and the ones about the night the power went out in the middle of the storm scene. There's just time to introduce Laura to Luc afterwards before he has to run, and they have to get back to Meg's apartment to meet Alain.

Meg steps out onto the sidewalk in front of the theatre, pulling her hair free of her jacket. "Do you want to walk? It's not that far, really, and I don't think we'd save much time by taking the Metro."

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"They were, yes.

"I think part of it is that . . . everything's exaggerated in plays. You only have a few hours to tell what should be a grand, sweeping story, so you have to make things bigger -- people's flaws are exaggerated so they make bigger mistakes more quickly. And sometimes people do things that don't make sense because it's what needs to happen for the story to work, or for the audience to have information they need.

"But, yes. The characters in King Lear do some remarkably stupid things."

Pretty much all of them.

"Maybe next time we'll try a comedy. If you'd like to see another play some time."

X looks dubious.

"I do not think the mistakes needed to be that big."

Beat.

Beat.

"But a comedy would be okay. Next time."

She likes spending time with Meg.

"I'll keep my eyes open for something that looks promising, then.

"Preferably with less stupid characters.

"You've had a good day?"

"Yes," X says, nodding once.

"I like Montreal."

This is not a lie.

"And your class was interesting. I did not know much about cuttlefish. Before."

The utility of such knowledge she is not prepared to comment on. But --

It was interesting.

You never know. The fate of the world -- or the fate of a world -- could one day depend on what Laura knows about cuttlefish.

"I'm glad.

"I like Professor Garrett. She gives interesting lectures."

"Yes," X agrees, even though she has not had occasion to hear many lectures. But some things are self-evident.

"You take very good notes."

"Thank you."

Meg has had a lot of practice.

And is the person most likely to be asked Can I borrow your notes? by a classmate who has missed a lecture.

"Have you ever thought about going to university?"

"No."

X looks startled. Very startled.

"I do not think it is necessary. For me."

She's got enough to be getting on with in her daily life.

Edited 2010-11-07 01:18 (UTC)

"Well, it's not for everyone," Meg says.

"But I think you'd do well, if you ever wanted to go."

Just so Laura knows.

X hesitates again.

"Thank you."

Maybe one day she'll try.

But probably not.

"Some of my friends will go. I think."

"At home, you mean?" Meg asks.

"We'll be making a left at the next corner," she adds.

"Yes," X says, obediently preparing to make that turn.

"If they do not get killed."

She worries.

Being an X-man is dangerous.

Meg nods.

She's heard enough stories about Laura's world to know that.

"Are you having any trouble at home right now?"

"No," X says, shaking her head once.

"But it is never really quiet. Not -- "

She shrugs, one-shouldered and quick.

"It is better not to be unprepared."

Meg nods.

"Yes.

"You'll let me know if there's ever anything I can do, right?"

Meg's not sure what that would be.

Unless Laura needs notes taken.

But still.

"Yes," X says, nodding once.

"I will."

Beat.

"You do not have to worry."

Well, not about that, anyway.

"Good."

Laura is a friend, though, so there's no getting around worrying about the rest of it.

"Here we are," Meg says, pulling her keys from her purse and unlocking the front door of her apartment building.

X looks up, half-turning so she can check sight-lines before following Meg inside.

It is a default assessment. These things happen.

"Your roommates are here, too?"

"I don't know," Meg says, starting up the stairs. "I think Olivia had a date tonight, and Carrie's been working on a project with a classmate who lives downstairs, so she's may be there. It's due Friday."

Carrie is much more of a last minute type than Meg is.

Not that it's hard to be more of a last minute type than Meg is.

Meg unlocks the door to her apartment, and calls "Hello?" but there's no answer.

"I guess they're still out."

"That is okay," X says, very seriously.

It makes things a little easier, that's all.

X does not have to think about pretending to be normal.

Edited 2010-11-07 01:57 (UTC)

"And Alain should be here soon," Meg says, with a glance at the clock.

He's very punctual.

Meg hangs her jacket on the hook by the door.

"Make yourself at home, Laura. I'll get started on dinner."

It's just sandwiches and salad -- nothing fancy.

"I can help," X says, sliding out of her own jacket and hanging it up, as well.

"If it would be useful."

She can set out plates with the best of them.

"Thank you."

It's the work of minutes to get dinner on the table.

Meg is just pulling juice and soda and milk from the fridge when there's a knock at the door.

"That should be Alain. I'll be right back," she says.

And she is, a moment later, accompanied by a tall young man with dark hair.

"Laura, you remember Alain, right?"

Alain holds out one hand. "It's very nice to meet you again, X."

"Alain," X says. "Hello."

It takes her a second to reach for his hand.

"You have been okay?"

Meg did not indicate otherwise, but --

It is polite to check?

"Yes, thank you," he says. "Have you? Did you have a good day in Montreal?"

"You two sit, I'll bring the drinks," Meg says.

Everything else is already on the table.