Page 36 of Higher Demon

I point to the phone. “That.”

“Uhhh…” Ian eyes me warily. “It’s Dylan? Remember, he’s going to help with the whole friends thing?”

“You are nearly as unbearable as your brother. Not Dylan.That!”

He and Matt exchange a glance. “Do you mean the keyboard? Hey Dyl, stop typing for a second.”

Silence falls.

“Is it gone now?” Ian asks.

“Yes. What was it?”

“Dude. Seriously. How have you never heard anyone typing before?” Dylan’s voice is utterly shocked. “You know what a computer is, right?”

“Of course I do. I have one.”

“And you use it? Are you a one-finger typer?”

His words make no sense. “I use it when needed. But I don’t type. Why would I do that?”

Matt swallows hard. “This might be heading into areas I don’t want to think about. The sound is Dylan typing epically fast on his keyboard, because he’s a computer geek and the online world is his bitch.”

“It is,” Dylan agrees. “Also, one day when I’m very drunk, you can tell me how you use a computer without typing at all. Matty, make sure you’re there to stop me bargaining my soul away.”

“I have no interest in your soul,” I remind him impatiently. If this is what having human friends is like, I don’t know if I can survive here.

“Yeah, sure, whatever. So you’re into calligraphy?”

“No.”

“Yes,” Ian insists. “Your handwriting looks like something from a period movie.”

“That’s because all you humans wrote that way when I learned how. The art of handwriting is not an interest of mine.”

“Is that what calligraphy means?” Matt wonders aloud. “Huh.”

“Wait, if you’re not into calligraphy, why are you writing shit by hand?” Dylan demands.

“He writesletters,” Ian announces. “With that perfect handwriting.”

“Letters?” Dylan sounds bewildered. “But why? Email is so much faster… and better.”

“Is this relevant?”

“It’s confusing. Also… you’re into microbrews, collecting rare books, and custom stationery. It’s like the definition of ‘pretentious twat.’”

“You should see how he dresses.” Ian shakes his head. “We’ve got an agreement to compromise there, at least.”

“Is there anything about me that meets with your approval?” My tone is heavy with sarcasm.

The silence that follows would be amusing if I didn’t actually need to make friends and build networks here.

“You’re snarky,” Ian says finally. “Talking to you is never boring. Terrifying, sometimes, but never boring.”

“I get that,” Dylan agrees. “I heard some of the funny before. And hey, I can use that. Who was that English guy centuries ago who got famous and popular by being a dick? Nobody liked him, but they all wanted to know him.”

My new friends look blank. “How is it that I know more about the history of your world than you do?” I ask them. “I wasn’t here then.”

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