if_inconvenient | (no subject)

Sherlock laughs.

Today is just his day for inappropriate humour, isn't it.

There is a pause in which Cal gropes for something to say.

"So Mother's talking about running to fill Dad's seat in the Senate for the rest of his term," he what he comes up with.

It's horrendously awkward as far as subject changes go, but it's something. And he'd planned on mentioning it to Sherlock, anyway.

"That should be interesting."

"I think she'll get it," Cal says. "I mean, she qualifies legally, and so soon after - I mean, even if they do it by appointment instead of election, I don't think they'd dare pick anyone else. Public sympathy's too high right now."

"Of course," he murmurs. "A sound analysis."

Cal shifts in his chair, switching his phone to his other ear.

"It's getting her foot in the door," he says. His tone is just a little too matter-of-fact. "She says she's got a way better chance now than when they got married. As a woman, I mean."

"Heaven help America when she pulls it off."

"If she ends up in the White House," Cal says, "I'm moving to fucking Australia."

. . . then he glances toward the door, just in case his mother somehow heard that. Things in the house may be different now, but there are still lines it's best not to cross.

"While I would be tempted to join you, I think I might stay here instead. Keep her honest, if such a thing is possible."

"Yeah?" Cal says. "Before or after you make pigs fly?"

This is the most comfortable the conversation has been so far, pulled away from uneasy subjects; Cal finds himself relaxing into his chair and smiling.

"Flying pigs is easy. All it requires is a catapult."

"By themselves." Cal is going to have to start making his hyperboles more detailed at this rate.

"I assure you catapulted pigs are quite solitary. I could do this all day, you know."

Cal considers this.

"You suck," he decides.

"Not if you catapult them in groups," he adds a few seconds later.

He cracks up.

Cal starts laughing, too.

"Those poor pigs," he manages after a moment. "We ought to give them parachutes if we are to be flinging them across the sky in such a fashion."

"Of course they get parachutes. You're too much of a smartass to give them wings."

How thoughtless of you, Sherlock.

"Wings need to be correctly operated. Parachutes are passive. I am only thinking of the welfare of the pigs."

"Then teach them to use the wings," Cal says. "Parachutes can go wrong. And isn't there - yeah, how would they pull the cord?"

It's all about the details.

"Parachutes can be passive, I should say."

He is much too cheerful about being corrected.

"Are you gonna pull the cord for them?" Cal asks.

"Are you going to design an ornithopter?"

A what? Cal pauses.

"Three of them," he says with assurance.

"I commend your ability to sound as though you know what you're talking about. A device that flies by the use of automated flapping wings," he explains. "As opposed to a fixed-wing craft such as those that actually exist."