"Observations on the Evolution and Habits of the Domestic Platypus"

Ray cornered his wife in the hallway. "Are you ready for the most awkward dinner of your life?"

"It'll be fine..." Neela glanced out into the living room, where their unexpected guest was seated upon their rather comfortable sofa as if it were constructed of plywood and concrete. He scanned the surroundings critically, and addressed the five year old girl lying prone in front of a book across the (also rather nice) expanse of carpet. "This is very… domestic," he assessed.

Alice raised her head, tilting it to one side, and squinted at him. "It's our house," she explained, and turned back to her reading.

"I mean…" Neela frowned for a second, and then shook her head. "No, no of course, it'll be fine. He's harmless. Sweet, actually." She looked up at her husband with widened eyes, pleading tolerance on her erstwhile mentor's behalf. Ray looked down at her with angled head and a squint.

"Sweet, huh?"

She rolled her eyes and brushed past him into the kitchen. He followed, laughing, and stood beside her at the counter, where she was becoming frustrated with salad prep, her expanding profile putting her at an awkward distance from the work surface. There were lots of nice things about having a second child, but it wasn't exactly ergonomic. He nudged her elbow and said, "I'll do it." Before she stepped away he hooked an arm around her middle and placed a quick kiss on the top of her head. She looked over her shoulder to see if they were within the eyeline of the sofa. She poked him in the shoulder ('Nice.') and he shrugged innocently ('What?').

"Alice! Come help set the table, please." As she laid down flatware and napkins, Alice periodically stole a glance at their visitor, as she'd been doing ever since Neela had extracted her from her booster seat this evening and she'd looked down the driveway and asked, "Mommy, who's that strange man?" (She may not actually have said 'strange.' Neela's memory may have added that later. Ray would certainly recount it that way in the future.)

Lucien had picked up Alice's library book and was paging through it curiously. As he examined it, Neela found herself anxiously hoping he didn't fail to notice she was reading well above grade level. He replaced the book on the carpet, taking care to leave it open to the page where Alice had left off. "If she's interested in animals," he said as he approached the dining table where she and Ray were laying down the usual components of spaghetti night, "I have some interesting primate studies on my tablet that-"

"That's-" she started, even before Ray shot her a look, "Thank you, that won't be necessary. I think we've got enough reading material."

"What? I wanna see," Alice said as Ray attempted to redirect her inquisitiveness by picking her up and sitting her in her chair. "Maybe after dinner," he told her, the all purpose fully deniable anti-promise. He tucked a paper napkin into her collar.

Alice was already twirling noodles with her fork. "I like marsupials," she announced. "My favorite's platypuses."

"Platypuses are monotremes," Dubenko addressed her directly for the first time (other than a polite "Hello" and a disconcerting handshake when they'd greeted him on the porch). "Your place settings are very efficient," he complimented her.

"It's better if everything's straight," she said. He nodded.

Ray eyed his wife as he dished out spaghetti. ('Wonder where she got that idea?') She lifted her brow as she passed him the parmesan cheese. ('Well, she's not wrong.')

Ray addressed their guest. "So, Dr. Dubenko-"

"Please, we're no longer in a professional hierarchy, you can call me Lucien."

Ray did not know if he could. "Neela said you were at a conference at Tulane?"

Neela perked up. "I read the paper you presented, it was fascinating."

"Yes, I'm sorry you couldn't attend. I was surprised you weren't invited. If you want I could speak to the committee about getting you on the list next year. If you start now you should be able to have something presentable by then."

"Oh." She glanced down at her belly. "The next year is going to be a pretty busy one for us." Ray tapped his fork on the edge of his plate ('Just tell him you don't want to.') ('I don't want to insult him.') "And my focus is much more on community health, these days."

"Well." She waited for the sting. All he said was, "I'm sure you're an asset to the field," and it actually sounded more like a genuine compliment than a backhanded one disapproving of her choices.

"She's pretty awesome at it," Ray confirmed.

"So I hope you're not here to try and steal me away," she joked. In the pause that followed, her gaze darted across the table between the two men. "...From my job."

"That's a good opportunity to discuss the other reason I'm here," he said, seemingly relieved at being forced into it a topic he hadn't been sure how to broach. "The pasta is very good, by the way."

A deadpan Ray said, "Thanks."

"I'm on the board of directors of a biotech startup. A post-doc colleague of mine just left DARPA to found his own lab. It's called NovaManix? You may not have heard of it yet. Terrible name, I know. Anyway, he's still putting together his team, and while I'm not technically involved in recruiting, I took a look at your work over the last few years and there's a position I think you might be a good fit for, if you have any interest."

Neela spoke rapidly. "Oh, no, Lucien, I'm really very happy where I am."

"I'm sorry, Neela, I should have been more clear; I didn't mean you."

Her face crinkled in confusion. Ray, brow equally furrowed, pointed his fork at Alice, who was trying to eat a meatball with a spoon. "Did you mean her?"

"I was addressing you, Dr. Barnett."

"Well," said Neela, and turned to her husband, surprised but quite honestly chuffed. ('Well!') He stared blankly back at her. ('What the fuck?')

"Uhh. You can call me Ray."

"Of course," Dubenko agreed, then conspicuously avoided doing so.

"So… what kind of…uh, job?"

Neela jumped in eagerly. "Yes, tell us. What sort of lab?" Ray put a hand on her arm so she wouldn't get up from the table to Google it.

"Advanced robotic prosthetics."

"Robots are cool," interjected Alice.

"Yes they are," their guest concurred.

"Daddy's kind of a robot."

"Not really, Al." He looked at Dubenko, still puzzled. "I'm not an engineer..."

"Oh, of course not," Dubenko said quickly. He chuckled a little.

('"Of course not."') ('Hear him out, will you?')

"No, they're taking a broader, multidisciplinary approach. Most of the R&D teams are fully staffed. What they need is a patient care facilitator."

"Oh!" said Neela. "You could do that."

"I don't know, maybe."

"Honey, underselling yourself is not the most successful interview strategy."

"Oh, don't worry," Dubenko assured them. "This is really more of a pre-interview."

"How did this…? You barely know me." He turned to Neela. "Did you...?"

She shook her head. "I didn't know anything about it."

"I was going to be in the area. The reference was implicit. I trust Neela's instincts."

"You do?" she asked, then answered, "Of course you do."

"Although I'll admit at one time I was skeptical. When she first left Chicago I was certain she'd be back within six months."

"Well," said Ray, cheerfully lifting his glass. "Happy to disappoint you, I guess."

Neela rolled her eyes. She turned to her daughter, who was politely wiping her face with her napkin and succeeding only in smearing tomato sauce over a wider area, and asked, "All finished, Al?" She got up and pulled Alice's chair away from the table. "Let's let Daddy and Lucien talk for a while." She took some satisfaction in the air of mild panic that filled the space, and shot a parting glance at her husband. ('Most awkward dinner of your life, indeed.')

Neela was sitting up in bed reading the NovaManix prospectus on her iPad while Ray applied lotion to her upper arms.

"I'm not taking it," he told her again.

"And I don't understand why you won't at least consider it."

"You just said tonight, you're happy where you are. I am too. Do you really want to move D.C.?"

"It's not technically in D.C., it's- oh. I just got it. No-Va-Manix. Well, the NoVa bit, anyway. He's right, it is a stupid name."

"All biotech companies have stupid names. They ran out of good ones twenty years ago."

"We could at least visit. Aren't you flattered?"

"I guess."

"Do you think you couldn't get it? I think you could."

"Yeah, maybe. Probably. Why are you my hype man all of a sudden?"

"I think it could be an exciting opportunity."

"I think you're just turned on by robots."

"I think you're deflecting." She put down her tablet and grasped his hand. "What's the real reason?"

He was quiet for a minute, then rested his chin on her shoulder. "The possibility of this should bother you. Pulling Al out of school. Leaving your job. Uprooting everything. You shouldn't be excited about it."

She stroked the back of his hand, and asked softly, "Why not?"

"Because." His other hand drew slow circles on her back. "You already did that for me once."

She squeezed his hand. "That turned out all right. I'd take that deal again."

"You shouldn't have to. It should be my turn next time. Why don't you find an awesome new job in L.A. or Seattle or… Kalamazoo. And I'll follow you there."

"What if…" she proposed, "I used my fantastic networking skills and found an awesome job in D.C.?"

"Your networking skills have become impressive."

"I do have a LinkedIn profile."

He laughed into her hair. "I guess… we can think about it." He hugged her around the middle and said, "We're kind of on a deadline, though."

"Don't I know it." She turned her head to kiss him, and he slid a hand upward and under the V of her nightgown. "Next week," she said between kisses, "let's go out on spaghetti night."