Charlette mumbled something under her breath, but between serving their meal and the orange juice, Paul didn’t quite get everything she said.  He was thankful and relieved in how she seemed to accept his denial of her inquiry about sleep-ins.  Seriously, it would not in any way have been his true response.  In fact, her tasty treats would have. . . .<br/><br/>Knock, knock, Old Man.  An intake of pained breath preceded yet another admission.  The same one, really.  Yeah, I know, was his quiet reply.<br/><br/>She then rattled off her classes.  Unbeknownst to her, Paul was executing perfect cartwheels within himself.  I mean, just focus on her class subjects: Anatomy and Physiology.  They just screamed at the top of their medical-related lungs, HOMEWORK!!!<br/><br/>She wouldn’t have time for anything else.  This was good.  Though he did secretly wish that Dave would step the fuck up already.  How could he allow such a jewel to slip through his fingers?<br/><br/>And viciously tempt me in the process.  Thanks a fuckin’ lot, Dave! he fumed.<br/><br/>Old Man?<br/><br/>No worries, mate.  I’m on it, he replied.  Yeah, more or less.<br/><br/>Enjoying the fried rice, Paul stole glances at Charlette, who appeared to be doing the same as far as the fried rice was concerned.<br/><br/>We good, Old Man?  An (hopefully) undetected last look toward Charlette, and he stealthily answered, Yeah, we good.