Fate is unavoidable. It's destiny. Most people don't mind, they rejoice when it comes for them, they yearn for the day they'll meet the person Fate has chosen for them.
But Phineas has forever dreaded the day his timer would hit zero, romance just i...
Phineas yawned. He'd done the most he could last night as far as the hacking went. It had simplified things that a rumor on a conspiracy forum about someone working there had panned out. And that that someone used the same email address for casual and work emails. Plus, their password was password. One would think government agents wouldn't fall into that trap.
Overall, it was almost too easy.
"Phineas?"
The voice was vaguely familiar but he couldn't place it as he looked around. The street was busy this time of day, he wasn't sure how anyone would even see him to recognize him.
Phineas jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder.
When he turned around, the man started speaking, "I thought that was you. No one else in this city has that hair that red."
"Hey," Phineas dragged out the word. There was brown hair sticking out from under the guy's beanie and a kind smile on his face. Phineas' brow furrowed. He knew him. He knew he knew him. "Django?" the name slipped from him before he could question his guess.
Judging by the smile he got in return, he'd guessed right. "Yeah, how have you been? I haven't seen you since like high school."
"I'm okay." Someone bumped into Phineas from behind.
"We should catch up!" Django looped one tattooed arm around Phineas' shoulders as he started walking. "I know this awesome cafe that's on the next block over. Steam Noir, you ever been?"
Shaking his head, Phineas let himself be led. It could be nice to catch up with his old friend. It wasn't like they hadn't talked at all since Django moved out of Danville, but their paths had diverged. It was only normal to fall out of touch.
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The coffeehouse was somewhat crowded, but no one there looked happy to be there. The only people smiling were Django and a woman browsing one of the two bookshelves in the place.
Django let him go when they got to the counter. "I'll have a soy, hazelnut, vanilla, white mocha with caramel. Phineas?"
"Are you buying mine?" Phineas tried to put some humor into his tone, even though he was completely serious. He could see the prices, he wasn't spending ten bucks on a drink or on any other outrageously priced item here.
He stared at Phineas a moment. "Dude, your mom's loaded, you can't find the pocket change for a coffee?"
"No. You just said it, my mom's got money, not me." And she wasn't loaded either. She got by on the royalty checks and her concerts, and he knew she had enough to retire on if she ever decided to, but she wasn't rich.
The barista handed off the complicated drink, and Django paid. She cleared her throat, cueing them to move on if Phineas wasn't ordering. They did.
Sliding into a chair by one of the large windows, Django picked the conversion back up, "So what? Did she cut you off totally?"
Phineas plopped down across from him. And immediately frowned at the hard cushion on the seat. He glanced over to the sofas, wondering if they were more comfortable. "No."
