“Hank. He said he’d... never mind. Is it important? I guess it is. You’re calling me and you never call me any more. Not unless it’s to beg me to stop fixing you up on blind dates which you botch on purpose, and even then it takes you a few days to get around to it-”
“
Usually I can wait as long as it takes for you to run out of words,” he cut-in quickly. “But this is sort of important.”
Elise paused, drawing in a sharp breath. “Any other time, I’d love to hear you out, but things here are really... urgent...
so I don’t think I can concentrate on your woman problems right now, Sy.”
“They can’t be more urgent than what I need to tell you.” He raised his voice, knowing she was about to hang up on him. “Can I fly... uh... run over and see you?”
She sighed heavily. “Really, Silas. No. I’m sorry. Any other time, it’s always yes. You know it is. But Hank and I are working on something... vital.”
“Tempus is real,” he blurted. “Tempus is real and he sent Lois Lane and Clark Kent, the originals, our founders, forward into the future. If they can’t get back to their time, get married, have kids, you and I won’t need to put this conversation off until later. We won’t be here to argue it.
And... I do not have problems with women.”
“Come over,” Elise squeaked. “Come over this instant.
Why did you call, you big doofus? Why didn’t you just break the door in?”
“This seemed more polite.”
“Screw polite,” she retorted.
“Why aren’t you asking me a thousands questions, starting with ‘Am I high?’” he said as he moved to the doorway, then turned back slowly and eyed the window. “Why do I feel like you aren’t surprised?”
“Just get here,” she said. “Wait!” Her shout reached his ears as he was disconnecting. “How did you know they’d been sent into the future?”
“They’re living in the museum.”
He listened closely, but all he could make out were half-strangled exclamations, swear words that raised his eyebrows. He would have sworn before today she didn’t know such an assortment.
He smiled, perversely enjoying one-upping the sister he’d spent his entire life being one-upped by. “I’m on my way.” “No. Meet me at the museum. I’m headed there.”
“Let me come get you.” He easily opened the protesting window. “Trust me. It’ll be faster... I think.”