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Mako

Ridley’s hand pauses at the top of the check. “Um,” he asks, “does somebody have the date?”

“May 13, 2005,” says Mako, behind him.

Ridley starts to write, then looks back and grins. “You always provide the year?”

“Never know whether you’re talking to a time traveller.”

“Aren’t they supposed to look at newspapers?” Ridley leans on the counter, enjoying himself.

“Sure, and give themselves away that easy?” Mako scoffs. “Besides, being helpful could earn me the… appreciation? Of hot future guys.”

The man behind the counter is still waiting for Ridley’s check. He tries hard not to drum his fingers.

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