trans_9 | A Mini-Midlife Crisis

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A Mini-Midlife Crisis

Where to start? He had to resist the urge to pick at the little square bandage on his forehead or the stitches. Daniel put his hands on his hips, where they couldn't get anywhere near his head, and surveyed what was going to temporarily be his domain. Until he got kicked out, at least, but until then, he was determined to squat here. As makeshift archaeology labs went, he'd worked with less. It was a lot to take in; there were an impressive amount of artifacts from the dig. They probably didn't even scratch the surface of Taleen, but they'd brought back a lot anyway. The room was crowded. Practically overflowing. An archaeologist's wet dream. Maybe not Meaning of Life Stuff, but this could keep a person occupied for months. Maybe years, depending on how thoroughly you wanted to go into it.

Daniel didn't make any motion to begin on any of them. He sat down and looked at the tables.

What the hell was he even doing here? Once the excitement and rush wore off, Daniel realized how inappropriate this was. Talk about a lack of priorities. The fact that he was still thrilled about the prospect of spending a day studying them angered him at the same time as it excited him. Sha're was out there, still a host. Or maybe not, if his universe really had been destroyed. Daniel had a hard time wrapping his head around the concept. Part of him still didn't believe it was true. He wanted proof. Something besides Stacy and the Daligig's word. At the same time, having actual proof only meant that what felt like a terrible possibility became cold, hard fact. Maybe he didn't want to know. It was easier on his sanity if he could wonder if SG-1 was out there still.

And here he was, about to get arm deep in relics and a dead civilization. Like it had any bearing on what was supposed to be the most important thing. He should be trying to get back home or - or do something to help everything and everyone he ever cared about.

Sure thing, as soon as he found some good options. So far, Daniel didn't see anything better than staying on this ship. Even if he found a Stargate, it wasn't like he could abandon ship. It wasn't a matter of attachment but practicality. Where would he go? No point of origin, or maybe they were different, and even if he went back to this Earth, nothing was quite the same. It wasn't his universe. He was better off sticking with Stacy, Daniel had to admit to himself. Everything seemed to converge on her. If anything was going to come up that would help, it would more likely happen around her. That left him doing missions while he was on board, working. Maybe they'd find something on one planet, something that could helped his universe. Even with the destruction of Thor's Hammer, he had a chance to find something to help Sha're.

Daniel took a breath. He stood up. He could make himself useful until the next mission. He had a few things he wanted to study first. The mummy they brought back lay on the table. He was dying to start on it. Or there were the Goa'uld devices.

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Eva looks better than the last time he saw her. She's showered, she's brushed her hair and clipped it up, she's put some of her self-inflicted injuries out of sight with lipstick and powder. Her flesh still looks like a curtain between her and the world, as if she's somewhere else entirely, with only her physical body to anchor her to whatever location she's actually in. Haunted, maybe. Clouded.

She debated a long time about whether to come see Daniel. A more selfless person than her might have cut ties with the man entirely. After all, what more is there to say? She is incapable, the nature of time and space is incapable, of producing an apology that is appropriate for what she dragged him into. She can't go back in time and excise him from the situation and torture the cultist in private.

And that's the thing, she still doesn't think she'd have let the cultist get away intact. Some part of her still feels so justified. The Eva that is horrified at herself is sharing space with the Eva that still says 'they attacked us in our home'.

Finally, about half a bottle of wine in, she wrangled her self-doubt into submission and made her way to the science department. She heard there'd been an Archaeology dig and the crew had returned with artifacts. It would make sense to find Daniel here.

She knocks on the doorway a little, trying to call his attention without invading the room.

A minute or two passed before Daniel came to the door, finally pulled away from the sarcophagus. He had the closest thing he could find to a surgical mask, gloves, and safety goggles over his glasses. As he drew closer, he pulled the goggles off and let them drop around his neck. Daniel slowed for a fraction for a second, then continued to the doorway. Eva. What was she doing here?

He wasn't ready to see her again. She looked better than she had in the brig. Clean, brushed, a human being again. Daniel had made it clear that he would try to help her, if he even could, but he'd also made it clear that he didn't know what he thought of her anymore. Did she expect them to go back to what they were before? Whatever that was.

The dig had done some good. Exhilarating, refreshing, and in a way, the politics and the supremely pragmatic military aspect of the SGC's missions left him feeling smothered at times. Stifled was a better word. And for three days, it took his mind off the terrorist attack and Eva's actions. He could do his job. All he'd had to worry about overall was the disaster.

"Eva," Daniel said, a silent 'what are you doing here?' tagging along her name. "Can I help you with anything?"

Her mouth's halfway open when she realizes that she doesn't quite have an answer for that. She sighs and pushes that breath out through pouted lips in an expression of deep irritation at herself.

Because I don't know what I am, so I'd at least like to know what we are.

She wraps an arm around her waist and frowns. "What, visiting hours only go one way? I can only talk to you if we're going through the motions of guilt and punishment?"

She cringes at herself, between how slurred the last half of that question came out and how accusatory it sounds. "Sorry. You'd think I'd be in a better mood, what with being off my leash again."

Daniel opened his mouth to tell her that she brought it on herself, no one forced her to rip a man's face apart, just as no one made her use him to do it, but thought better of it. Then he sniffed. It was a barely perceptible motion, but it brought him up short. That was a whiff of alcohol. It had to be. Eva had been drinking before she decided to come up here? What happened to alcohol wasn't a problem for her, not a solution to life's problems?

He couldn't believe it. But he did bite back his retort. If she was drunk or even buzzed, it might set her off. She obviously wasn't a cheerful one when she did drink. And truthfully, she might have been a little right. Daniel didn't mind visiting her, or meeting somewhere else, but as far as he was concerned, this lab was a sanctuary for him. A place where he could be comfortable, where he could bury himself in the dust of long dead civilizations and let his imagination out.

"Being out of the brig wasn't going to be a cure all. We both know that."

An uncomfortable silence fell. Daniel studied her. Now he could see the careful makeup, the equally careful brush of hair. Maybe Eva was right. He was being a hypocrite. The alternative was he turn Eva away. He didn't have much of a good reason to, and Eva did want to see him. Maybe they could try to work something out. If there was anything that could be salvaged of whatever their relationship was before.

He retrieved a pair of goggles, glove and a mask and handed them to Eva. "Here, put these on and come in."

Daniel turned and led the way back to the sarcophagus.

"More of a cure-nothing," she mutters. The alcohol has lowered her inhibitions about wallowing in self-pity, about letting the negative, self-loathing seeds of doubt in her take hold and keep her wrapped up tight. Normally those thoughts are there, pressed right there up between her brain and skull, where Edriss used to be, but she doesn't verbalize them. Verbalizing these things gives them some kind of authority.

She's about to offer to go when he hands her the gear. She stares at them a moment, dully, then up at him with a question in her face, as if asking for more permission than his offer contains. His gesture has caught her by surprise; a heavy part of her expected to be turned away, or at best barely tolerated. He has no obligation to entertain her attempts at feeling her way through their strange relationship, whatever it is. She expects he only visited her in the brig due to some misguided sense of responsibility, as if he were paying penance as much as she was supposed to be. As that is not the case here, she's fairly flummoxed that he invites her to have an excuse to stay longer.

But he's already turned, so she puts the equipment on and follows him.

"What's this you've got here?"

Correction, Eva was a depressing, self-hating drinker. Maybe he could get her focused on the artifacts. Not so much focused as distracted. When she was feeling more sober, they could actually talk. If she couldn't respect him or herself enough to come up here without drinking, Daniel wasn't going to indulge the self-pity. He'd wait her out. Then they'd sit down, try and work things out.

Moving through the crowded room was becoming a second nature. Effortless. It never took him long to get used to a lab room, even when it was overflowing with artifacts and not nearly enough tables or room space. He didn't bump into a single one. Weaving in and out of tables and shelves, he took her to the back wall of the lab. The sarcophagus gleamed garishly amongst the rest of the artifacts. On a nearby table, sat the ribbon device and the healing device.

...And then the other healing device, the one he'd accidentally stolen from Vala. Accused her of being a thief and then turning out to be one himself. Today was not his day. He had to track her down.

Daniel came to a stop on the other side of the device. He'd been trying to clean it earlier. Not all of the dirt and sand came off, but there was enough cleared that he could start reading. For now, he left the goggles around his neck for now, and picked up a notepad and pen.

"In general, everything here? Or this?" He tapped the sarcophagus with a knuckle.

It takes Eva quite a bit more effort to not bump into anything, but she's honed her buzzed navigational skills sneaking back to her bedroom without waking Marco at odd hours. Like a naughty teenager. Ironic, that. She makes it through the room without so much as brushing an artifact.

She waves a hand at the crowded room. "It'd take you the better part of an hour to even name everything in this room, and that's not even making any progress towards explaining what makes each piece fascinating."

She leans over the sarcophagus. Its incongruity with just about everything else isn't lost on her. Nor is the attention it must have received from Daniel to get so much cleaner than the other objects.

Her face gets serious. "This is Goa'uld, isn't it?"

Daniel watched her, making sure she didn't hit any artifacts, and relaxed when she joined him. She was right, it'd take him an hour just to even name them, especially when half the stuff didn't have a name yet.

"Yes. Good eye." She'd never seen one before but Eva was an intelligent woman and what little he'd told her before was enough to pick up the rest. Despite the fact he was still upset with her, it pleased him how quick she was to make the guess.

"These three devices," Four, you thief. Daniel wasn't going to let himself live it down. And if Vala wanted to ever speak to him again if he found her, he didn't think she would either. -"are of Goa'uld origin. This is a sarcophagus. It's not used to keep their dead."

Daniel motioned towards the hand device. He didn't touch it. If he had to pick worst memories between the two, he was actually leaning towards this device instead of the sarcophagus. Dying had hurt, but in his case, extremely quick. The sarcophagus had revived him, so it was more the staff weapons. The hand device on the other hand.... he'd been tortured with it, and it didn't get better each time afterwards. It felt like his brains had been about to disintegrate in his skull. "This is a kara kesh or a ribbon device. It seems to be multipurpose. This is a healing device."

Edited 2011-10-04 06:04 (UTC)

Rather than looking at the objects closely, she mostly pays attention to Daniel, what he does and doesn't do. She doesn't ignore the artifacts, but they're secondary. There's something guarded in his face, some memory he's placing. She wants to ask, but at the same time, she understands the need for privacy, and she doesn't want to be making any demands on him at the moment.

Instead, she asks a related question that may lead her to an answer anyway, but isn't intended to get at it. "What are the sarcophagi used for?"

She has her suspicions, but if Daniel ever explicitly told her what they were used for before, she's forgotten it. Her mind is sharp, but like all human things, imperfect. Edriss was always capable of accessing every fine detail Eva had resigned to oblivion, and in some ways Eva misses having someone there able to call up and cross reference her mind like a computer.

This was a bad idea. He'd been through this with Howard, and while he didn't think Eva would have the same severe reaction Howard did, it dredged up some memories he thought were better left where they were. Like the mad dash to get Sha're into it. Waiting, not sure how long he'd have. Probably not long, even if Ra's Jaffa caught up with him, it wasn't like it was going to stop the bomb.

The sarcophagus was so many things rolled into one.

Of course if Daniel didn't answer, it would look weird. Not to mention Eva might lose interest and they'd be back to where they started. Not going to happen until she was sober. He'd just treat it like any other artifact. Daniel motioned for her to step back. He then activated the device. Like before, it unfolded majestically, and he had to give the Goa'uld credit, it was impressive, as if a god was going to rise the next minute. The outer layer came down. The inner layer started to open. Then it jammed, just like before.

"They use it for wounds too great for the healing device to handle. Or to bring someone recently deceased back to life," Daniel quickly, and he hoped, too subtly for her at this time, changed course slightly. "I haven't been able to find out who it belonged to. I'm still translating the sides." He indicated the writing with a pencil. "But so far I think it may have been this universe' equivalent of Bastet, originally a lion goddess figure in Ancient Egyptian religion until Sekhmet grew in prominence and overtook her."

Edited 2011-10-04 09:05 (UTC)

She digs her front teeth into her lip. The way Daniel changes the subject doesn't slip by her, nor does the majesty of the sarcophagus in motion. She doesn't touch it, but she does raise a hand as far as her waist as if to push something away, a muted protest at the unknown, as the idea of the sarcophagus falls into place. The idea that death would bring no freedom from the Goa'uld. At least Yeerk hosts had that luxury.

If Daniel wants to talk minutiae, she wants to encourage that. Better to focus on the details - in this case the writing - than on the larger picture. Something's upset him beyond her presence, and in a twisted way she's a little glad she's not the sole bearer of bad moods onto his doorstep. She pushes that thought away - that a self-centered, heartless thought. Of course she doesn't want Daniel to feel bad. She doesn't want him to hurt at all.

"Bastet became the cat goddess, didn't she? I don't know much of Egyptian mythology, obviously, but I remember the little cat statues at specialty and knickknack shops being associated with that name. I suppose it befits a cat to have a fluid nature." She folds her hand up under her jaw. "Do you think this comes from before Sekhmet gained popularity, then?"

He'd be more pleased she knew something about Egyptian mythology if it hadn't come out of a gift store. Daniel drooped a little then nodded. The bright side was she knew more than Jack did already.

"Yes, she did. The domestication of cats and their increased use as pets had something to do with it. The representation they used here looks a little different, but it's definitely their Bastet."

Good, she seemed to go with it. Maybe she hadn't noticed. He could talk about mythology and religion. Easily. Give him water and food, and he could keep going for hours, and by then, she'd be less interested in learning about the device and more interested in changing topics or going home. He wished she'd chosen something easier, like the mummy. But talking, talking about his job he could do. Talking about it nonstop, he could do that too.

Stooping, he tapped a palm sized square of hieroglyphs in a corner.

"Anyway, so far I've been able to translate some of this section. It seems this sarcophagus, or at least, the exterior, was made in honor of Bastet's victories over her rivals.' Daniel underlined a line with his eraser. "According to this section, she shares her glory with her sister in arms. I believe they are indicating Kali the Destroyer, note the reference to multiple arms and mention of what I believe is kapala. Apparently they formed a strong and fruitful Alliance, which, while I've found to happen among lesser Goa'uld, is a rare occurrence amongst System Lords."

Edited 2011-10-04 19:22 (UTC)

Sorry, Daniel, she worked through college and grad school. At a theme park, a carnival, a gas station, a law firm and a cafe! She never was the best at committing herself entirely to jobs she wasn't passionate about.

"As mousers, probably. Well, ratters, I'd guess." It's a funny word, 'ratters', one she's not sure actually exists. She mouths it again silently, hoping Daniel won't notice. She bends over a bit to see the hieroglyphs, hands tucked politely behind her back.

"Kali's a Hindu goddess, isn't she?" Fitting. Hindi concepts of life are cyclical, aren't they? Kali destroys the universe so it can be reborn, or at least, that's what Eva thinks she remembers. She never devoted enough time to Eastern texts, although she does remember having read the Ramayana once. "Are they just picking and choosing with their deities? Seems sloppy."

"Pest control," Daniel suggested.

"Yes, she is. Consort to Shiva."Eva continued to surprise him. She knew something about Hinduisim, even if a little, which was more than the average person did. Daniel nodded again and stood up. It doesn't surprise him to see other Goa'uld taking from other religions. They couldn't just confine themselves to stand in for the Egyptian gods, they had to keep taking and taking.

"I'm not sure. This is the first confirmation for Kali that I've seen," not all mythological figures were Goa'uld though. There were the benevolent god figures, like Thor. "Some took on the persona of an existing religion, such as Ra. But... it gets problematic in places. Some Goa'uld appropriated existing figures, but who's to say some of Earth's current beliefs didn't originate from the Goa'uld?"

"Chicken or the egg, then. They didn't touch on the Judeo-Christian religions, did they?" If she were sober she probably wouldn't let a little bit of sentimentality creep into her voice at that. Then again, if she were sober, she probably wouldn't care beyond a cursory curiosity about potential blasphemy.

She runs her hand over her mouth and through her hair. Her religion comes to her like the tides. Some days it fills her up and she's nearly pious; others, she can't find God in anything, not in the basic fact that she's alive or the miracle of her son's survival through that war. Lately she's been tilting towards the former, but what else are you supposed to do in a jail cell but wear your prayers down to the bone?

She listens to Daniel carefully, although she worries that if she stops concentrating on doing that her mind will start wandering. He doesn't seem to be dumbing things down for her, but he isn't delving into more complicated subjects either.

"Are all the religious occupations from Earth?" That's the best word she can think of for it, 'occupations'. To take a body is an act of war, to take a belief as much so, even if the harm is minimized. It's an invasion.

Sort of but not quite. Daniel looked over at her, silent for a moment. He caught the catch in her voice, and he could only imagine what it felt like to find something you believed in so much might be something else entirely. Daniel proceeded delicately. "I'm sorry. We haven't found any sign of that just yet."

Daniel was about to fold his arms around his chest, felt the warning twinge from his ribs, and changed his mind. He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at the inscriptions. Idly, he translated a line or two while he thought his answer over.

Occupations. Only Eva would phrase it in such a way. Daniel supposed it made sense, considering how she viewed the world. He viewed it as theft, appropriation.

"I don't know know what religions they touched yet. We're still just scratching the surface on their culture, much less every single Goa'uld or System Lord out there." Maybe he could full her away from the Goa'uld devices while she was distracted, show her the less personal stuff, like the shard over there or the part of an energy cell that was still working.

"They always take what's ours," she whispers to herself, with a small, barely audible noise that could be either a growl or a moan or both.

Her head jerks up as she watches him move. The flinch in his motion would go unnoticed to most people, but Eva's acutely aware of the signs of pain, having seen them in that dreaded mirror every day. She frowns and narrows her eyes, considering whether or not to ask. She decides not to, for no reason other than the knowledge that were she caught navigating her body around pain, she wouldn't want to be peppered with questions.

Daniel's far more open than she is about some things, but she knows him well enough to know that he, too, keeps some things close to his chest. She didn't know about his wife until she stumbled into that minefield, after all. If he were concerned with Eva knowing about whatever pain he's in, he'd have told her, rather than waved metaphorical shiny objects in her face.

She lets him, though. Even as she recognizes that she's being misdirected and distracted, even as she rankles at the feeling of being puppeted, at the moment it seems as if it would be selfish to press her own concerns. Even if they are concerns about Daniel.

"So. Chicken or egg. Is this why you're interested in Egyptology, or did that come first and lead to this?"

And he got the feeling Eva wasn't exactly talking about just the Goa'uld. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. Eva had been drinking, and this topic wasn't a good one for anyone when they were sober.

Was it all theirs? Or did some beliefs and religions spawn with the Goa'uld as the actual, original god figures? It begged the question: just how much of Earth's various cultures and institutions were theirs and what came from the Goa'uld. The idea that the Goa'uld may have been a instrumental part of some of Earth's cultural development was a repulsive one, but he had to consider it was a possibility, just as much as the involvement of Thor and his race.

Daniel rested against a table edge. "I didn't know about any of this until two years ago," although he'd always suspected something was up with the pyramids. They had to be older than everyone thought and he'd turned out to be right. Aliens though. He never saw that coming. "I guess you could see archaeology ran in family."

Edited 2011-10-07 05:02 (UTC)

It's one and the same to Eva if the Earth religions originated from the Goa'uld or humans - by the simple virtue of her having grown up with them, they belong to humanity, to her race. It's a status quo she doesn't like upset. Finding out something she assumed to be hers is being claimed by someone else feels as bad as someone stealing it. That's how she feels about her body, anyway. She had no claim to it except that she was there first and it still burned to have it yanked away.

"It must have been nice, having family share your interests. Mine never did. It's one of the reasons I don't talk to my sister. The other being that she's stuck in my destroyed universe, of course." She shrugs one shoulder, seeming not terribly perturbed by that thought. As much as anyone can when they think about their universe being destroyed, that is.

She turns to see the mummy. "So what's this fine young specimen doing here? He doesn't look a day over a few thousand."

"It was." Until the accident. Then after that, it was more like his memories of them, all the traveling he did with them, that kept him going and kept him inspired. It was like Eva was trying to hit every single hurt. First his wife, now this. Eva just had to pick at new and old wounds and she didn't even know she was doing it. Or maybe she did have some idea, and she was only saying it because she'd had a few to drink.

"I'm sorry. They're still family though," Even if Eva's sister didn't share her interests, she should appreciate them while they were there. It only took one day and then you never had the chance. They left. They might not mean it, but they left. Gone forever. "If we ever get to go back, maybe she'd like to see you again."

He'd rather talk about the hand device or sarcophagus than talk about his parents. And with some relief, Daniel hastily latched onto the subject.

"Beautiful, isn't it? The very last remnant of his race. Their society seems to have been made up of three equal classes, warrior-priest-scholars, with lesser tiers supporting them."

Eva makes a dismissive noise. "She was unimpressed with me enough for my last return from presumed death. I'm sure she's fine without me. She likes to think I run from responsibility and all that...slander." Eva realizes that she's rambling, in Spanish even, and that Daniel probably holds very little interest in the affairs of her family members, so she waves her hand as if turning the pages of a book. "And she's an idiot. So there's that."

She peers at the strange mummified body. She wouldn't call it beautiful, but given its history, she believes it may qualify as 'significant'. "So, four classes. Which one do you think this one was? And do you have any ideas as to who shot him?"

She walks around the tables the mummy lies across. "Does he have a name?" She presumes Daniel's reasonably certain that it's a male. If it were a female she'd name it Abby Normal. "If he doesn't I'll submit my suggestion for first name Mack, last Obb."

Daniel switched to Spanish along with her, the change as natural as breathing with about as much thought given to it. Maybe he was being just a little sentimental, but at least she had living family. And Eva and her sister couldn't stay pissed at each other for the rest of their lives. Or maybe they could. Eva seemed like she was more than willing to give it a shot.

"Maybe so, but would it hurt to try to talk to her, see if you can work things out one last time?" Daniel tried.

They stopped at the table. She didn't have the same flinch reaction that Hiccup did, but neither had Marco. It made sense. They'd both seen war and violence, and corpses to go along with it. One dessicated husk wouldn't even lift an eyebrow. "Three classes. The lower tiers could easily have more, but three main upper classes."

Mack-obb. Funny. So funny he cringed. It was like something out of Jack's mouth. Too bad he couldn't just take back the last fifteen seconds and pretend it never happened. Daniel gave her a very long, pained look.

"I was going to name him Bob," Daniel said dryly. "No, I don't know who shot him, but I do believe he was either of the scholar or priest class. " After a beat, he said, "Marco stopped by earlier today by the way. I can see where he gets the sense of humor from."

"Given that the simple exchange of pleasantries with her is akin to Chinese water torture, yes, it would hurt. I'd rather not waste my life on futile endeavors." Clearly there's more than just a lack of common ground between the two of the them, but since Clara's not here to rebut Eva's assertions, she decides to give that last comment a decisive if unspoken 'so there' and leave it at that.

"Fine, count however you want. I'd say the presence of an 'other' necessitates the need of a number four, but you're the expert here." She pulls her bangs into her hair clip so she can lean closer to the corpse, then pulls her reading glasses out to examine the detail. The red trails along her hairline are clearly visible, but Daniel's seen her at worse than with slight self-inflicted injuries.

She stands back up and pulls her glasses off, wagging a finger at Daniel and his long-suffering look.

"Don't mock my wit." She nearly says 'or I'll rip your nose off', but she's not quite drunk enough to mistakenly think Daniel would find that as darkly funny as she does. Instead she switches back to Spanish and speaks a bit more impassionedly. "My wit is brilliant. It's my sword. And it's the only thing I could have armed my son with before I vanished, so you should give it the respect it deserves. Which is plenty."

Nothing was ever simple with Eva. Daniel was learning that very quickly. Did she have any family she got along with, he wondered, then realized it wasn't his place to judge. Everyone managed their relationships differently, and he, of all people, was the last person to tell anyone how to treat their family.

"Maybe, if there weren't sub tiers or multiple classes within the tier," Daniel pointed out, stepping back to let her look. He studiously keeps his eyes on the side of her face, instead of the marks from the brig.

Whatever he expected from her visit, it wasn't a finger waving at him, or getting scolded for taking a collective dig at the "humor" that ran in her family. Daniel held up his hands in surrender. Actually he thought Marco's humor had been a shade worse than Eva's drunken version. That didn't seem like the best thing to say at the moment. Or ever. "Hey, I'm glad you passed it onto him. Humor's a great way to deal with a situation."

Marco should meet Jack sometime. They'd have a field day. One Daniel hoped he didn't have to ever sit through. "Guess I'm just not ready for that kind of humor." he said as he sat back down at the mummy. Hopefully the move would keep her around this area, rather than back at the Goa'uld devices.

"I presumed the fourth class would be an umbrella category. And remember, you said three at first. I'm not old enough that my memory's going yet." Or drunk enough. She's just drunk enough for bad judgment.

She nods, suddenly somber. "When you teach a child to look for a punchline, you're giving them the skills to step back, for a moment, from the immediate tragedy and devastation of a situation. You're teaching them opportunism."

She runs her teeth over her lip. There's a lipstick stain on her front teeth, the result of doing that over and over again. "And that may be a dirty word to some, but it makes a natural problem-solver."

And a natural tactician, she tells herself, and runs her fingers just under her eyes.

"So prepare yourself. Disarming ourselves of that humor puts us at an unfair disadvantage," she concludes, following Daniel back over to the mummy. "So. Bob. How old is Bob?"

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A Mini-Midlife Crisis

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Daniel, a smooth criminal, you are not.

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