Wilder hurried along the sidewalks on the west side of the wall, an outdated fascist piece that had separated the city into two. One of their first acts of rebellion against the old government had been to demolish this wall, and bring to light the separation of class in Phase City. He looked out over the smooth beach on the west side as he jogged towards the Ministry.
"Hello my dear," James called from the kitchen when he heard the door open.
"I'm so sorry I'm late." Wilder hung the crossbow on the coat rack in the hall.
"Don't apologize. I was just finishing."
The small kitchen was well lit and was filled with the aroma of fresh pasta. James whisked a hot tray of baked alfredo onto the table as Wilder sat down. "Would you grab a wine from the rack my love?" James asked him, wiping sweat from his brow.
Wilder gave him a tiny smile, and chose a white wine from the shelf behind him. "It's so cute to see you playing housewife," he said, taking in James' longsleeved button down shirt tucked into slacks. "Don't you ever take a day off?" he joked.
James sighed in exasperation, but he couldn't keep the smile from his face. "Listen," he said, dropping the oven mitt on the table, "I dressed casual. It's just a casual dinner."
Wilder grinned at him. "James you're welcome to wear some of my t shirts."
"Oh yes bands from the Dark Ages, I'm sure I'd just love that. Sit down, sit down."
The two of them sat at the wooden table, and James reached across to grab his hands. "Would you like to pray?"
Wilder shrugged. "I think that you might be more qualified."
"Fine. Dear Lord, this is the three hundredth and fifty first day in which I have prayed at dinner and Wilder refuses to..."
Wilder yanked his hand away from James who tried to keep a straight face. "And though he's annoying and loud and leaves weapons on the floor, I love him dearly, and also thank you for the hands which prepared this meal. Amen."
James was a remarkably good cook. "How come they don't have you in the kitchen on sundays for brunch?" Wilder asked through mouthfuls. "That would be the way to keep praying hands in the building, as they say."
"Well, between doing three masses a week, morning sermons, sunday school, confession, and study group, I find I don't have a lot of time for that." James took his plate, and began washing the dishes in the sink. A gentle clatter filled the air. "Let me get the dishes," Wilder said, taking the sponge out of his hand. "I know you've got your meeting with Lo. Tell them I said hi."
"You can tell them yourself, actually," James said, sliding on his reading glasses. "Lo is going to come over for drinks. They have developed a taste for champagne, and I said we could go over a few things last minute for the presentation."
"I would love to see what you have compiled so far," Wilder said. "Anything I can do to ease that anxiety, I will."
"Being here will be more than enough," James said. "My Terrenese is greatly improved. Very slowly I am adding it to the translator."
"Those scribes haven't even fully grasped Damonse," Wilder said. "It's going to take a long time."
"Years, I expect. Well, either the presentation goes well, or it simply won't be my problem anymore."
"That's such a cheerful way to look at it," Wilder said, gripping James by both upper arms. "You're going to do great. I have faith in you."
"That means a lot. I just don't know if I have faith in myself."
