Ten Minutes (Or More)

“Yes! Beat you! Who knew? Man beats hooves.”

“You.. ah... ha... you are... a complete and utter brute, Mister Nick!”

“What can I say? I’m just trying to give you some of the experiences you’ve been looking for!”

“To walk ‘the floor’ is one path, to gallop across the rubble-ridden pavement is another!”

“Gotta learn to love the asphalt, Diamanté.”

“I abhor it.”

“I can tell you love it. Flooring it!”

“Nicholas!”

“It was quieter tonight.”

“Mm, yeah. Sunday. Back to jail tomorrow for the rest of ‘normal’ society.”

“You don’t consider this normal?”

“Absolutely not, Dia. Our shift is as abnormal as a unicorn pushing around carts in Assembly. We’re throwing away a lot of alignment with people outside of our schedule, and that’s that good chunk of society.”

“...And I suppose you are one of the few to drive out at this hour.”

“Eh, well, sane people go at lunch time. There are less options for eating out at that time, but I prefer the full thirty minutes for rest instead of driving.”

“Mm. Quite. I imagine your ‘cars’ inside are a source of ire, as well.”

“Hey, that’s why horses pull carts, while we drive ‘em.”

“Pardon?”