By Dimmer
"Date of Birth? Current Employer? Favorite Color?" Perfect Tommy read out loud through the forms the hospital had requested he fill out.
Liz, as she said to call her, answered each question in turn, "Seven Twenty-Six Seventy-Four. Dr. James Wildman. Green." She gave Tommy a dirty look, "What do they need a favorite color for, customizing the i.v. tape?"
The Cavalier just grinned and kept reading, "Current Occupation?"
She snorted a laugh and blurted, "Pimping for Lazarus Long. Er... Don't put that, put, um... 'Continuity Consultant.'" She chuckled again, and Tommy returned her dirty look.
"Continuity Consultant?"
"You know, Infinity, Eternity, Alternity, Continuity?" He remained skeptical, so she revised her explanation, "Er, in movies, they need someone to keep track of what happened when, so they don't have the hero using the watch that got smashed by the bad guys in an earlier scene? Continuity."
Perfect Tommy wasn't sure this was any better an answer, but he was willing to let it go for now. He checked the paper to see how many questions were left, and noticed the date she had given him, "Nineteen Seventy-Four? You're thirty? I'd've said no older than twenty-two, maybe."
Liz blushed, "Thanks, you look pretty good yourself, at least," she added a caveat, "you do without my glasses." She tilted her head at him, "Twenty-seven?"
Tommy laughed, "Thanks back atcha, I'm all of twenty-nine myself."
"And you were hitting on a girl of twenty-two? Shame on you." She un-tilted her head, "Twenty-nine. Like Clark Kent?"
Perfect Tommy gave her a puzzled look, "Kent? Um, reporter, right? Daily Planet? I thought he was fifty-something by now."
Liz shook her head, and gave the ceiling the 'why-me' look, "Um, right. Now he is, but he, um, hovered at twenty-nine for a while, you know?"
Tommy gave her a moment to think he was a ditz, then laughed, "Yeah, comic book characters do that, don't they." A few moments later he was picking himself off the floor, picking feathers out of his hair.
