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Second verse, same as the first.

Susannah is back, trying once again to get some work done away from her troublesome menfolk. Not that she doesn't have a perfectly good office to hide in if she really felt like playing the recluse. But they don't keep liquor in the house, and where would she be without her Dragonfly?

The mountain of paper situation has only gotten worse; more resumes, print-outs of her memos that she's now marking up in red pen, and a file from the Vannay Institute about Stephen King's latest publications. Among other things.

She's open to distraction; just don't bring up Ron Howard.

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"Hey." He puts down his journal. "No one's called me sugar since my grandma died." Odd that he never thinks about that.

"I am not--" She cuts off. "Oh hell. I suppose I am old enough to be your grandmother. But only if me and my children had been making some damn poor life choices."

"Didn't say you were that old, lady. Just sayin' no one calls me that now, is all." He looks a little sheepish.

"It embarrasses my daughter," she says.

"How old is your daughter?" It would probably embarrass Cy just. Especially in front of the team.

"About your age, I guess," she says. It's hard to tell under all that, but she's got a pretty good eye. "The age where just about anything I can embarrass her."

"I guess my mom was able to do that, too. My dad never could, though." There is a little edge in Cy's voice.

"I was raised in a different age," she says, shaking her head. "Father Knows Best and all that."

He blinks. "Whoa. Maybe you ARE old." That show was black and white! That's the stone age!

She gives him a flat look. "You seem to come from time just a mite after mine, sugar. It was about forty years ago I used to listen to that nonsense on the radio. I was in middle school and didn't know any better."

She was in college by the time the TV show started.

Edited 2010-06-02 00:21 (UTC)

"40 years...you look 40 or 45." He just blinks for a moment. You can practically hear it.

"That's just base flattery," she says, dismissive; it's not hard to tell that she's secretly pleased, though.

She'll be--as near as she can figure--fifty-three this year. She's still not sure if she aged during her time in Milliways, though, and time in Mid-world was... strange. "I've moved around in time enough to lose my place a little," she admits.

"Ah no, not time travel. That stuff hurts my head." But it happens just enough that Cy has an icon for it. Amazing.

"You just have to go with it and hope it's all making sense to someone, somewhere," is her advice on the matter.

"Yeah, like Einstein. Not me. I like my physics in three dimensions at most."

"My experience is that no one consults you on what kind of adventures you'd prefer to have before you have them."

"Yeah, that's true." He learned that the hard way more than once. "I like adventures, I guess, but it would be nice to know how to pack."

She snorts. "You say true."

She would've liked to bring a change of underwear, for instance, when Roland Deschain snatched her out of her place and time.

"I'm not much for adventures these days. Another sign I'm getting old, I guess."

"What kind of adventures did you do?" He's noticed the chair. And wonders if she lost her mobility in a more worthwhile way than he did.

"The usual sort of thing," she says. "Parallel universes, the end of all reality, cosmic struggle of good and evil. It all seemed to make some kind of sense at the time."

He blinks again. He didn't expect that. "Were you also a super-hero?"

"No," she says. "It wasn't that kind of universe."

"You don't come from a world with X-Men, do you?"

"Nah. That's someplace else. We have the Justice League and the Doom Patrol and the Teen Titans. That's my team," he adds with pride. "Cyborg at your service, ma'am."

"Didn't spend a long time on the name, then," she observes. "I'm Susannah."

Edited 2010-06-02 01:44 (UTC)

"The name suits me," he says a bit defensively. "People know what I am, and that's fine."