Natasha was working at the terminal when he got home. "God, there you are," she said as he stumbled into the back bedroom they used as an office. "I was afraid you'd gotten mugged or something."
"I did," Jim replied with a perfectly straight face.
"Very funny. I suppose Bill Baxter hit you over the head with a beer pitcher?"
"No, seriously. Somebody brained me in the forest. I've been talking to the cops all this time."
"My God, you're serious, aren't you?" She rose from the desk and drew close to him. "Let me see." She started poking his scalp gingerly.
"Ow! That's it; you found it."
"Sorry. You should see a doctor, sweetheart. You could have a concussion, you know."
"The police said I was all right." As if he'd trust those two characters with anything more complicated than a parking ticket! The real truth was that he was too tired to face the prospect of being prodded by medical technicians for the next few hours. "I just want to have a drink and a bite to eat, then hit the sack."
Natasha's face broke into a wide smile. "That sounds good to me."
"God, you just don't slow down, do you? You can't be a real woman. You're some kind of robot, right?"
She twisted her lips into a pout, which he found deeply attractive. "Oh, poor old man! Sometimes your young vixen just asks too much from you, doesn't she?"
"All right, woman. Let me get outside of some dinner and I'll show you who's an old man."
Natasha laughed her tinkling laugh. "Oh, Jim, that's what I love about you. All your buttons are so big and easy to push."
"You've got me pretty much figured out," Jim admitted.
"I'm afraid I gave up and ate without you--I was getting grouchy waiting for you to get home. But there's some left in the fridge--chicken curry and rice. I'll heat it up for you."
"Don't bother, I like it cold. Do we have any beer?"
She touched a finger to his lips. "Of course we have beer, my big American man. Take your shoes off. I'll get it for you."
Jim sat down in front of the terminal. With a grunt he pulled off his left shoe, glancing casually at Natasha's work. The screen showed a network diagram. "How's your chapter coming?" he called out to her.
"Slow but steady, love," she replied from the kitchen. He heard her rustling around in the fridge. "I need to get some more computer time to run my big network model. The kids are tying up the student machines with all their midterm projects."
"I can probably give you a hand there. I'll get Stan to run your model for you."
She came back into the office, handed him a bowl of cold curry and an even colder Binion's Dark. "Is it kosher for you to get me faculty perks that way?"
Jim shrugged. "I don't see why not. The resources are there, and half the time they aren't being used for anything." At least, not for anything useful, he thought, remembering the guys down the hall and their weather system simulations. "Besides, you're a grad student in my department, aren't you? Shouldn't I do whatever I can to help you finish your dissertation?"
Natasha didn't look convinced. "So you're telling me you'd do the same thing for any other student? Even one who wasn't fucking you?"
"Sure, why not?"
Natasha smiled and waved an accusing finger at him. "I don't buy it. You can be my professor or you can be my lover. You can't be both, you know."
Jim put his hand on his chin and pretended to be lost in thought. "Hm, let's see, that's a tough one. I can direct your dissertation on intercontinental networking, or I can fuck your brains out. I'll have to think it over."
She pushed him playfully, nearly spilling his beer. "Bastard! Never mind, I'll find the computer time on my own."
"That's the spirit! What the hell do you need me for? Hey, this is good curry."
"It's the recipe your mom sent us. How's Bill?"
Jim shrugged. "Bill's Bill. He doesn't change. Big, loud and radical."
"I like him. He's funny."
"He's a character, all right." Jim finished his curry, washed it down with a swig of Binion's and let forth a satisfied belch. "Delicious!"
"You're a pig."
"But I'm a cute pig."
"Fine, you're a cute pig. Let's go to bed."