So there he is. Looking remarkably twenty two at his twenty eight, Ol' Chev is strolling ole law school's corridors waiting for his SJD supervisor, same ol' prof he did his first degree with, looking remarkably twenty two to an untrained eye at his twenty eight (a trained eye would spot a sleazy litigous crook off a mile). As always, the star of the show has not officially called off his office hours but unofficially is probably not even in the country at the moment, nor will he be tomorrow. But one's got to wait because various things have happened in the past.
There she comes, looking like Eowyn straight from the Lord of the Rings film. Being at his best casual semi-retired look, a Chicago-taylored grey suit and a sky blue white-pin-striped shirt, no tie (the semi-retired part), black moccasins, completed by a black briefcase looking somewhat more academic than the typical ambulance chaser's, Chev notices her. She asks about the prof, keeping the "sir" in place (must be the commanding presence) and being properly impressed. 'So, ma'am, is that the fourth year?' (it takes five to be over with,) Chev strikes a vaguely benevolent and only slightly protectional tone. Turns out she has just graduated. 'Oh, that's nice, so early,' Chev is not at all fazed. 'I did mine in September. The 17th, in fact. And I had been enrolled in the SJD as of the 15th. Nobody has found out yet.' The conversation takes an hour with significant initiative on Eowyn's part in making sure it does not interrupt, before she sees another lecturer she has business with, a scary lady due to be examining two rookies shortly, or rather executing them, judging by her facial expression. Chev vaguely recalls the lady's having been the reviewer of his thesis except he never saw or talked to her before, during or after.
'I'll be here when you're done,' which does not take that long. Eowyn has one more thing to do, which in turn makes it rather obvious Chev's other business is currently being put on hold but this is not admitted in any way, shape, or form. But she's relaxed and chatting away. 'You're going to the library? How about we take a slight turn and have a coffee for a while?' '...The one next to the Chancellor's office, for instance,' Chev follows through. It works. However, when he hushes her down on her taking out her wallet at the counter, it does not work. 'No, really, I cannot accept such an invitation. I would feel bad with it,' immediately followed by '...next time'. 'Oh, so there is going to be a next time,' Chev does not say out loud, while paying for his double black and exuding complete confidence in not speeding the process to join the girl that already holds her cup. 'Where do we sit down?' she asks. 'That corner over there,' replies Chev without hesitation our doubt to his voice.
They chat for a while, generally about SJD matters and Chev's sharing survival tips and assorted tales of glory of lack thereof. She listens and contributes and corrects her hair and twitches her knees and corrects her hair and twitches her knees. Chev reminds himself to be looking in the face but boy! 'I think it's time to go and see to the formalities,' she says before being helped with the chair and coat. There is no way in the world chev would leave a coffee unfinished (no matter what), so he downs the remaining part in one go. They are outside almost immediately. 'I'll be going.' 'Yup, I was about to bid you goodye,' came back quickly with the easy naturalcy one who has talked back to judges could produce. 'Oh, you were saying something about a next time, ma'am?' Chev recalled 'suddenly'. 'Oh yes, we will surely see each other round from time to time at the faculty, so then.' 'Yeah, sure,' (Chev waved her away with an easy-going expression and went on his business).
What the heck?