“They’re arguing in the manner of inebriated scientists, which is to say semi-incoherently, passionately, and with citations.”
“Na, na, na, na… ‘E wasnae sayin’ tha’ black holes don’t exist… 'E was sayin’ th’ math w’s easier if'n they didn’t.”
“But that’s… that’s… that’s… thassnot the quote pipple use…”
“Aye, an’ John Lennon never said The Beatles were bigger n’ Jesus, neither.”
“I have absolutelynoidea who you're talking’ about…”
“Common quotes'r like (hic) mud. They’re common and they’re filthy.”
“And…” burp, “fulla microfauna?”
“And flora.”
“And worms and bugs.”
Lyr appeared by his shoulder. “I thought Shayde reacted to alcohol like it was arsenic.”
“So did I,” said Rael. “And yet… they are clearly inebriated.”
“Annit has tae be plank’s constant…” Shayde slurred, “because reasons.”
“Those bein’?”
“The math doesnae work if ye don’t use it. Dur.”
“I’m halfway tempted to record this,” said Rael, watching them both from his position on the corner of a handy cross-way.
“I can already get them for graffito in a non-graffiti zone,” Lyr offered. “As well as public inebriation. Problem is, that work would just about pay for it.”
“That is,” offered Rael, “if it was actually physics.”
“You can’t tell?”
Rael glared at her. “This is Shayde we’re talking about.”
Lyr sighed. “True. And the last time she did physics this big, she tore a hole in reality and fell down it. I should lock them up for their own protection.”
Rael smiled. “Have I ever told you how much I like the way you think, Officer Marken?”
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