A wicked grin came and went. “Bull told me to watch out for that one. Almost confined him when he attacked Margo. I think about a month of restricted environment”-Kit mentally translated jail — “and community service for assault with a deadly weapon ought to change his attitude. The garbage pits are short of help just now”
Kit winced. “Poor bastard. Sometimes I think it’d be easier on the down timers if we just drugged them until their gates reopened.”
Benson shrugged. “Yeah, but some never do. As you damned well know. Be sure Rachel looks at you.”
”Huh. I’ve gone to ground in hog lots with worse than this and survived Man’d think I’d turned into a mewling baby since I retired, the way people act…”
Benson grinned. “Hog lot, eh? You must tell me that story sometime.”
Kit laughed. “Sure. You buy the beer and I’ll tell all.”
”Deal. Stay out of trouble.”
Kit watched him stroll away, then winced. His ribs smarted “Well,” he quoted a very ancient comedy team, “this is another fine mess you’ve gotten us into, isn’t it?”
He didn’t feel up to tackling Margo’s attitude toward education just now. Better go crawling to Rachel and deal with my injuries. With any luck, the promise of another down-time excursion would help repair this latest breach in his relationship with Margo. And the trip itself ought to go a long way toward convincing her she couldn’t “fake it” down time.
”What’re you coming to, Kit,” he muttered on the way across the Commons, “bribing your own grandkid with expensive down-time presents?”