"Yeah... doesn't do me a whole lot of good, but I can," and even though it sounds a bit like a complaint it's said very nonchalantly, as though he's more than used to it.
The kettle and its shrill whistle stop him dwelling in that thought, though, and he carefully removes it from the fire, managing to pour a measure of water over the tea leaves with a minimum of spilt droplets. He sets it on a ceramic tile and then regards the tea as it starts brewing.
"What's it like that far ahead? I don't think I've seen into the next century," he asks a little wistfully.
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The kettle and its shrill whistle stop him dwelling in that thought, though, and he carefully removes it from the fire, managing to pour a measure of water over the tea leaves with a minimum of spilt droplets. He sets it on a ceramic tile and then regards the tea as it starts brewing.
"What's it like that far ahead? I don't think I've seen into the next century," he asks a little wistfully.