It was like watching the building of a great structure, a massive sea vessel or a sky scraper.  The way their words clanged and caught together, they way one idea built upon or challenged the next intrigued Vicki, and she sat listening to the sweet ringing of interpersonal production between her old friend and her new one.  Vicki loved the hard look she gave Fredrick, the way her eyes just became industrial saws, electric in intensity, to cut through any bull Freddie had tried to lay.  His own gentle carving, the soft slope and curve of his own story, was something to appreciate.<br/><br/>As he spoke of mistakes, Vicki leaned toward him, patting his thigh affectionately with her free hand.  She knew he had fallen hard but not by the fault of his own trusting nature.  He was still Drop Dead Fred, after all, a man she had considered too loving to ever be her lover.