"It sure will," Theo agreed, remembering Father's comments about the professor in question. "She expects perfection, is what I heard."
Kartor shrugged again. "She's no worse than Appletorn," he said. "And I don't need a letter from him." He looked around, hitching his bag on his shoulder. "I get off here."
"Me, too."
They swung off the belt together and strolled down the long hallway, red, green, orange, and blue status lights twinkling at each door.
"Here's my stop," Theo said, turning right toward the door marked Jen Sar Kiladi, Gallowglass Chair, and Professor of Cultural Genetics. As she approached, the status light snapped out. The door opened and the man himself stepped into the hallway, his stick in one hand and his bag in the other.
"Theo," he said gravely, then looked to her companion. "Good evening, Mr. Singh."
"Professor Kiladi." To Theo's astonishment, Kartor bowed, wobbling a little because of the pack on his shoulder, and straightened.
One strong eyebrow rose. "Ah." He returned the bow, fluid and effortless despite his own burdens, and straightened while Kartor considered him ruefully.
"I see that I've got to work on my timing," Kartor said wryly.
"Indeed. But you must be of good heart. I swear to you that the thing can be learned."
Kartor grinned. "Thanks," he said, and raised a hand. "I'll see you tomorrow, Theo."
"See you tomorrow," she answered, and turned to watch him walk away, in his loose-jointed, careless way. She turned back to a pair of noncommittal black eyes in a perfectly composed face, and had time to wonder what she'd done that was interesting before he inclined his head.
"Where shall you like to eat this evening, Theo?"
She hesitated, biting her lip, not knowing whether she should even ask...
"Speak," he said lightly. "If the scheme is more than my aged self can support, be certain that I will tell you so immediately. My sense of self-preservation is strong."
"All right," Theo said carefully. "I'd like to – " She cleared her throat. "I wonder if we can't just go – go hom – to your house and have toasted cheese sandwiches and tea?"
He tipped his head, eyes slightly narrowed, then nodded.
"A rigorous course, but I believe I may withstand it," he said, motioning her to walk with him. "If we stop at the fresh air market on our way, we might also have a salad, if you'd like it."
Theo let go the breath she'd been holding. "I'd like that," she said. "Very much."
"Then that is what we will do." They turned right into the service hall that led to the tiny faculty parking bay.
"Does your friend aspire to anthropology?"
Theo blinked. "Kartor? No..." She sighed and shifted her bag, wincing. "He's auditing Traveler's Etiquette. He wants to get a job on the station."
The click of the stick against the surface of the hall echoed oddly, almost as if he'd used it to punctuate something he'd thought but forbore to say aloud. His words, when they did come were fluid and thoughtful.
"Does he indeed? But surely his mother will want him with her in Systems."
"I think his mother is... more concerned with his sisters," Theo said slowly. "It sounds like, from things he's said, that she doesn't much care what he does, as long as he doesn't... get into trouble."
"Well, you mustn't blame her for that. I believe that many parents wish that their off-spring would refrain from getting into trouble."
Theo bit her lip, and the two of them strolled down toward Father's pride-and-joy – the car he delighted in describing to new acquaintances as a "burnished green neo-classic rally coupe."
Some of his new acquaintances returned from his show-off ride smiling, others... did not. But he was serious about his joy, and periodically engaged in events put on by Delgado's only road rally club.
"How have you occupied your time during the last few days, Theo?" he asked, opening the little car's boot.
Theo slid her pack off and put into the boot next to his bag, then straightened and met his eyes.
"I haven't exactly been trouble-free," she confessed.
"Splendid!" He gave her one of his brilliant grins, slammed the boot, and waved her to the passenger's side. "You must tell me all about it."
Theo slid into the low seat, snapped the safety belt into place, then sat with her hands in her lap, chewing her lip. This isn't, she thought dismally, going to be easy. She'd tried to prepare; reasoning it out, reminding herself that she had been willfully ignoring social cues, like Coyster pretending that he couldn't see a bowl full of substandard cat kibble.
You've got to do this, she told herself; you can't keep on not calling him anything, and besides, it's probably... upsetting to him to be called Father when he's not anymore, really, and he's just been too kind to say so.
That this particular variety of kindness was hardly a hallmark of her companion's character did not occur to her until she had licked her lips and made herself say, "Professor Kiladi?"
He turned his head, one eyebrow well up.
"Dear me," he murmured. "I apprehend that I have fallen into your black book, Theo. You must tell me how."
Theo considered him warily. "Black book?" she repeated.
"Ah." He inclined his head. "The reference is to a notebook in which the names of all those who have done one a mischief are recorded. Allow it to be one of those quaint off-world customs of which Delgado does not partake."
"Delgado doesn't seem to partake of many off-world customs," Theo commented, thinking of Gorna Dail.
"Yes, but it has a plenitude of its own, similarly quaint, not to say infuriating." He settled back into his seat without pressing the starter switch.
"That was a very credible attempt to change the subject. My congratulations. Now, if you please: Professor Kiladi?"
She took a breath and met his eyes. "I – Marjene said that, since you're not Housefather now, I – that it's antisocial to... to call you 'Father.' "
"Ah! Marjene." He sighed the name, elongating it into something comically musical. "All is explained. And yourself?"
She blinked. "Pardon me?"
"Do you find Marjene's argument resonates with you?"
"Well... I – no!" she said suddenly. "I mean, she's right – I've been ignoring a social cue. And that's not... honest. But, if I'm being honest," she continued in a rush, "I'd rather not call you Professor Kiladi, unless – unless you'd rather I did."
"I am compelled to meet honesty with honesty: I'd rather you didn't." He touched the starter. The car shifted slightly as the engine engaged, like it was a live thing that gone from sleep to alert. Father went through a similar change – as if being in the driver's seat brought him to a higher level of awareness. Eyes front, he scanned the parking bay, and when he spoke, his voice was grave.
"Theo. Far from being offended, I would be honored if you choose to continue addressing me as 'Father.' If, after due reflection, you find that you cannot in propriety allow it, then I suggest 'Jen Sar' as comfortable for us both." He flicked a quick, dark glance at her. "Is that plain?"
Chest tight, she nodded.
"Good. Unfortunately, and as much as it costs me to say so, Marjene's appeal to local custom is legitimate. Our relative positions being what they are, I see no choice but that Professor Kiladi must be fielded when we meet in public. I would consider it a kindness if you do not invoke him often."
That made sense, thought Theo, and formed a workable compromise. She and Father could be comfortable – and so could Marjene and Lesset.
"All right," she said, and, with a vast feeling of relief, smiled. "Father."
"Hah." He put the car into motion with a touch. "Is that the awful whole, or is there more to your not-exactly-trouble-free existence?"
Theo sighed, her momentary glow of comfort fading. "There's more," she said dolefully. "A lot more. And worse."