Manish looks like he's about to say something before he changes his mind. "How'd that happen?"
"You know, hard work. Perseverance. A big dose of luck." You reach the end of downtown's main strip. Without discussing it, you both cross the street to continue your walk back up the other side. It's a pattern the two of you often followed back in school.
"You're a professor?"
"Assistant professor." You finish your bagel and chuck its wrapper in a trash can. "But it's tenure track."
Manish whistles. "Aren't those hard to come by?"
"And getting harder. It helps that practitioners sometimes vanish. It's how my position opened up." You chuckle even knowing that your parents vanished in just such a fashion. Manish doesn't.
Maybe Don't Joke About That Around Manish
Seriously, how'd you get to the WP?" Manish asks. "What'd you do after graduation?"
"I got a fellowship," you say.
"Oh, that's right," Manish says. "You and Darcy were up for the same one. So you got it?"
Manish stares at you. "Darcy cheated you? I mean, I know she's driven and all, but you two were friends. Are you sure?"
"There was the bit where someone trapped me in my dorm room using a self-sustaining pattern so that I missed the interview. Oh, and the part where Darcy tried to explain why she did it. So, yeah, I'm sure." Manish's shoulders are up around his ears. He's never liked conflict. "Sorry."
The two of you walk on in silence. "I don't think you, Darcy and I were very good for each other," Manish finally says. "There at the end. Being practitioners brought out the worst in us."
"Gee, thanks," you say. "Glad to know what you think of practitioners."
"My turn to say 'sorry.'" Though you notice Manish didn't actually say "sorry."