"You *carry* him? You must be some kind of superman." She gave his bicep a squeeze, then his thigh, then slapped his butt. "A fine specimen. Your wife's a lucky woman." He grinned. Having his wife in the conversation made him feel less at risk. *That's right, I'm married and we both know it. This is just fun flirting. Nothing more.* They bit into their pupusas -- stuffed cornmeal dumplings filled with grilled pork and topped with shredded cabbage and hot sauce -- and grunted and ate and ordered more. "What are these called again?" "Pupusas, from El Salvador." "Humph. In my day, we ate Mexican burritos the size of a football, and we were grateful." "No one eats burritos anymore," he said, then covered his mouth, aware of how pretentious that sounded. "Dahling," she said, "burritos are *so* 2005. You *must* try a pupusa -- it's what all the most charming Central American peasants are eating now." They both laughed and stuffed their faces more. "Well, it was either here or one of the fatkins places with the triple-decker stuffed pizzas, and I figured --" "They really do that?" "The fatkins? Yeah -- anything to get that magical 10,000 calories any day. It must be the same in Russia, right? I mean, they invented it." "Maybe for fifteen minutes. But most of them don't bother -- they get a little metabolic tweak, not a wide-open throttle like that. Christ, what it must do to your digestive system to process 10,000 calories a day!" "Chacun a son gout," he said, essaying a Gallic shrug. She laughed again and they ate some more. "I'm starting to feel human at last." "Me too." "It's still mid-afternoon, but my circadian thinks it's 2AM. I need to do something to stay awake or I'll be up at four tomorrow morning." "I have some modafinil," he said. "Swore 'em off. Let's go for a walk." They did a little more hill-climbing and then headed into the Mission and window-shopped the North African tchotchke emporia that were crowding out the Mexican rodeo shops and hairdressers. The skin drums and rattles were laser-etched with intricate designs -- Coca Cola logos, the UN Access to Essential Medicines Charter, Disney characters. It put them both in mind of the old days of the New Work, and the subject came up again, hesitant at first and then a full-bore reminisce. Suzanne told him stories of the things that Perry and Lester had done that she'd never dared report on, the ways they'd skirted the law and his orders. He told her a few stories of his own, and they rocked with laughter in the street, staggering like drunks, pounding each other on the backs, gripping their knees and stomachs and doubling over to the curious glances of the passers-by.