While Rona and Phuong were waiting for their menus, Sacha was diligently working on her column. She only had the computer for a half-hour slot, and while most people who had been at the magazine longer than her treated the allocated computer times as suggestions rather than rules, Sacha felt honour-bound to respect the schedule.

It was going fairly well: with a couple of columns under her belt she was getting the hang of things, and she'd already built up a list of blogs to check on each week - and she'd become more skilled at locating interesting new ones as well. She still detested the name of her column - the "Leet Beat" - but Si was so pleased with himself for coining it that he was loathe to let her change it.

She was half-way through her allotted computer time, and making steady progress, when much to her surprise her 'phone rang. She knew that it wouldn't be professional to answer it, but at the same time it was hard to feel professional about a job for which she wasn't getting paid anything; also, her 'phone rang so rarely that she was excited to see who it was. She didn't recognise the number. She answered the call (while the dread-locked young woman glowered at her from behind, but in the temporary absence of friends to complain to remained silent).

"Hello?"

"Hi. It's Hannah."

"Oh, hi." Sacha sounded, even to her own ears, less than enthusiastic.

"Expecting somebody else?"

"No, It was just hoping it might be one of the places I've left my C.V."

"Oh. Sorry to disappoint."

"That's okay." Sacha cleared her throat. "Why are you calling?"

Hannah was reminded that tact was not Sacha's strong-suit. "Um . . . I guess I just wanted to see how you were."

"Really? You don't sound entirely certain about that."

Hannah laughed softly. "You just seemed a little unwell last week, I suppose."

"Hmm . . . Seems odd to wait until days later to check up on me." Sacha put her head in her hand. "I'm sorry, Hannah, I've been arguing with somebody this morning. It's put my hackles up a little."

Hannah laughed again, an easier laugh, a laugh of relief. "Oh, okay. I see. Everything cool now, though?"

"Sort of. No . . . Hang on, I think she's giving me the finger."

"Oh, she's there? Tell her she's a bitch. Whoever she is, tell her from me."

Sacha had glanced over to the dread-locked young woman who was scratching her head with her middle finger in a suggestive manner; now Sacha turned away again. "If you insist" she said. "Personally I'm inclined to just ignore her. Anything else seems like a bit of a waste of effort, really. Holy fuck!"

"What is it?" Hannah heard the faint click of a mouse button come down the line.

"I think I just found a blog by someone I went to uni with."

"Oh." Hannah sounded a little hurt, and Sacha realised it must have sounded rude: "Sorry" she said, "I'm just finishing off my column. Don't want to go over-time on the computer."

"Oh sorry, am I interrupting?"

"Nah, fuck it I'm almost done. How are you, anyway?"

Hannah thought about this, unsure quite how to answer, but finally opened her mouth: "Uhh . . ."