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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE XXV. back to the future [ season 3, episode 2 ]
"I don't get it."
She'd had enough. Steph slammed the pen down and pressed her forehead against the table. Dustin paused the Russian tape, sighing impatiently. Of all the people he thought would prove to be of some assistance in this mission, he incorrectly assumed it would be Steph.
"If we don't understand Russian, this is futile," she grumbled dispiritedly.
Steve, with mutilated banana rolling around in his mouth, rolled his mahogany eyes, "No, we have the dictionary. It'll ──."
"──Steve. Can you eat with your mouth closed?" Steph demanded in exasperation, grimacing. She leaned forward and prodded the play button on the recorder, if only to drown out the irritable noises of Steve's chewing and Dustin's fingers drumming against the table.
Again, it proved fruitless.
Steph shrugged. She handed the pen to Dustin, who took it with a frown.
"You're not giving up, are you?" he asked.
The sheer disappointment etched into his expression swayed her from admitting she was two seconds away from throwing in the towel.
"No," she said, "I'm just giving you the opportunity to write something down."
"What, exactly, would that be?" Dustin retorted.
"How am I supposed to know?" Briefly, she glanced up at the clock perched on the wall above the bulk of spare Scoops cones. "We've been at this for two hours and──" Steph held up the blank piece of paper, "──we've made this much progress. Zilch."
Steve tossed the empty banana peel into the bin. He wiped his grotty hands on the back of his Scoops shirt and said, "Hey, slow progress is still progress. Right, Dustin?"
Much to Stephanie's surprise, Dustin didn't look all too convinced by those words of 'encouragement.' He was usually on Steve's side. Not today. In fact, on the contrary, there was impatience mingling with the scepticism on his face when he looked at Steve.
"Steph's right. We've made no progress──"
"──Seriously, dude? Just play the recording again," Steve commanded. He started pacing the room, looking deep in thought.
Dustin exhaled sharply and jabbed the play button.
Once the recording came to an end, Steve's pacing ceased. He splayed both hands on the table and leaned forward, his eyes sparkling. There was still that unshakable blank look stamped on his face; he always gave off the impression of being borderline simple. Head empty, white noise buzzing in his brain.
