Never one to speak with food in his mouth (at least in front of women), Boris watched with delight as Emily dug into her combo slice.  He enjoyed her simple act of a bite because it was done with gusto.  This was pizza, after all, not some fancy-pants soufflé.  She was, on the other hand, what he termed a<i>folder</i>, which meant she folded her slice instead of just chomping on the pie in all its triangular glory.  Since it was Emily, however, he chose to let it slide with no comment whatsoever.<br/><br/>As for her question about books and authors, he had to give his response some thought.  Customers rarely talked about books, unless it was about motorcycles, of course.  Pizza held in mid-air, he stated, “Well, I love history and biographies can be really interesting, depending on the subject, of course.”  Boris laughed while sneaking in a quick bite.  Once done, he went on, “I also enjoy reading about motorcycle racing.  No surprise there.”  Another devious bite was accomplished.<br/><br/>Turning his attention to authors, he offered, “I used to like Anne Rice, but then I kinda think her Vampire Chronicles went on for longer than perhaps it shoulda.  Then there’s that Rothfuss guy, though I’m not sure what’s taking so long for that third volume with Kvothe, I think his name was.”  Stealthy bite three, and he had already reached the crust.  “Oh yeah, and there’s Kim Newman and his Anno Dracula series.”  Satisfied with his answers, he washed the recently departed pizza slice with a healthy swig of IPA.<br/><br/>Surprise, surprise, Boris thought.  Emily was a gamer, too.  She even liked the same genres that he enjoyed.  At first, he was unsure as to whether or not to divulge his gamer I.D.  But then he realized this was Emily, not some 12-year-old snot who insulted one’s mother and cat.  “Sure,” he finally relented, “go ahead and send me a friend request.  My gamertag is . . .”<br/><br/>Eh?  Girlfriend?  Who said anything about a girlfriend? Boris thought.  Obviously, his train of thought had just been derailed.  Was this her covert way in finding out key intel?  If it was (which Boris believed it was), well-played, he thought.  Focus! he reminded himself.  Answer her question.  Or don’t.<br/><br/>“Yeah, um, my gamertag is<i>ImpIPA88.</i>”  Another slice was claimed, and after his first sampling was chewed and swallowed, he continued, “And, uh, no girlfriend, so no worries.”  Right then, he realized she was probably single, too.  He nodded in the affirmative as the waitress inquired about another pitcher.  Hoo boy, who knew where this was headed? he pondered.  Only more IPA could clear his thoughts, or so he believed.