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The man sat back on his heels. "Is this the year of your lord eighteen hundred and ninety-eight?"
"Nope."
The man rubbed his arms as if to comfort himself and looked around the shabby apartment. "Well," he said, and wearily pushed cinnamon hair out of his eyes, "fuck me green."
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"A slaker?" he said in that curious, crisp accent. "You slake? Interesting. I did not know they had such people here. That is a happy chance." He turned and barrelled down the stairs. "Come, Alex, I am anxious to meet her!"
They had slackers in space, or alternate universes, or wherever? People really were the same all over, Alex marveled, and followed him down.
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