It doesn't even occur to Autor that she's holding her hand out for him to take. He straightens his blazer and pats down his hair, instead.
"So," he says. Time to concentrate on anything and everything that won't remind him of a frie--a man, flinching. "Since we appear to be on the moon, how are we even breathing? Where do you grow your food? How did you manage to farm everything? Do you have poetry about the Eart--er, the Blue Star like we have of Lunar?"
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Date: 2013-03-22 02:11 am (UTC)"So," he says. Time to concentrate on anything and everything that won't remind him of a frie--a man, flinching. "Since we appear to be on the moon, how are we even breathing? Where do you grow your food? How did you manage to farm everything? Do you have poetry about the Eart--er, the Blue Star like we have of Lunar?"