Takeout

When Roland asked if Barov wanted to order takeout as well, Barov jumped at the chance.

"That sounds swell. What are you thinking, Chinese?"

"Yes, that or Thai."

"Hmm, I'd rather Chinese if that's okay with you," Barov said.

"Sure thing."

Barov thought of something and tentatively asked, "Will Ms. Gilen be joining us?"

"No, she has some other matters to attend to; it'll be you and me, just like the old days," replied Roland with a chuckle. "We've been busy recently, and I've been out a lot with Veronica, so we've not had out usual lunchtime chat together; I've missed it."

Barov's eyes gleamed. "You've missed it? Me too, sir."

Barov giggled and thought gleefully, 'He missed me, well, he missed my company.'

Roland took Barov's antics as a joke and laughed along with him.

"I'll go order it now. The usual?"

"Yes, please."

…

When the takeout arrived, Barov was surprised to find another person's order there.

"I thought Ms. Gilen wasn't coming, a change of plans?"

"No," answered Roland, "this is Carter's; I invited him too. You don't mind, do you?"

"Oh, no, not at all," replied Barov somewhat dejectedly.

Carter came into the room not long after. They were eating on the sofa's in Roland's office, some of the most comfortable seats in the entire building.

They dug into their noodles while animatedly chatting about the ongoing major football cup.

"You take Tolzcauser—6 foot 1—4:19 left on the clock and trapped at the 50—he'd better maintain pressure for his offense and use the receiving opportunity."

"Tolzcauser is only one part of the larger team. Sure, he needs to be doing that, but Barnburger categorically has to focus on creating space for his fullback, working the offensive opportunity and yielding to the quarterback sweep. That's the bigger issue here."

"You think that's the issue. Barnburger is a garbage player; everyone knows it; there's no issue other than poor management. Our problem is the team is too bulky and too slow. Take Crabhauser—all agility no coordination and 440 pounds—he can't keep up with the fast guys; there's only so much he can predict and block; eventually, the opposition will get past him, since he can't keep up."

However, unbeknownst to each of them, none of them followed football. Barov only talked about it because Roland seemed to enjoy it, Carter was trying his best as it was something his boss was interested in, and Roland only mentioned it originally to see if Carter liked the sport.

As a result, the three of them were spouting keywords, one after another, hoping to sound like they knew what they were talking about. Each was scouring their brains for some more jargon to throw into the conversation.

Eventually, Barov decided to change the topic of conversation. "Roland, I just thought, you never told me when exactly you and Veronica started dating. What happened? Was it romantic?" he asked, staring at Roland with rapt attention.

"She came here with a picnic for me, knowing that I would be working late…

"… I opened my eyes and she was just there…"

"… Actually, now that I think about it, it was the night I had security take you home to rest," Roland finished with a chuckle.

'It was that night?!' Barov thought, dismally. 'I should've put up more of a fight against those security guards…'