And still more nonsense...

"Yeah," she admitted. "I want something to do. And I want to be doing it for a reason." Abruptly, she pushed her chair back and wandered over to the living-room window, picking up static from the carpet as she went. She stood for a few minutes watching the wind blow the powdered snow in clouds over the drifts, like a very confused mist, or maybe a horde of angry gnats. The world looked changed, different – the ground several feet higher, the wind out of another century; forces of nature throwing up snow drifts between her and her everyday life. It was kind of nice, though in time it would get annoying, and then it would melt. The cold radiated in through the glass. The only sounds were the clinking of dishes, as unrelated forces of nature made waffles in her kitchen.

"What are you guys doing in two weeks?" she asked finally.

"I don't plan ahead," the ferret pronounced. Tim turned and glared at him. "...though sometimes other people make plans that involve me, and expect me to show up." He glanced at the hamster. "So what are we doing?"

Tim frowned. "Well, I owe Eveline lunch."

"You're not actually planning on volunteering for that, are you?!" Greg asked, with what Julie took to be expertly feigned shock. Though what the heck, for all she knew it was real shock; she had to admit she was pretty surprised herself.

"Of course not," Tim replied with a what-do-you-take-me-for look. "But it is on my calendar."

The ferret rolled his eyes. "Good to know. And while you're at it, get me Napoleon's autograph. What are we actually doing?"

"I have no idea," Tim said, glancing at his hands, which were covered in an unnecessarily dramatic amount of flour. "I was assuming we would wander around until we found something interesting, like we usually do. Or we could sit in the snow and play chess for another couple of weeks, of course."

"Well," Julie said, "if you're playing chess in the snow, I probably don't want to get involved. But if you're traveling, could I go with you? I have a week of break; could I get back in time?"

"I don't see why not," Tim replied. He attempted to scratch his forehead with his elbow, inhaled flour, and sneezed. "I vote for traveling; I don't like this climate. It's too cold for a hamster."

"It's a perfectly good temperature for a ferret," that elemental retorted.

"Isn't that irrelevant?" Julie cut in, before the hamster had a chance to respond. "I mean, since neither of you seems to notice temperature at all." They both turned and stared at her blankly, as if she'd said something completely beyond comprehension. She shrugged and decided this must be another weird elemental thing.

She took a step back towards the kitchen and paused, glancing around her for some sort of grounded metal. "Is everything okay?" Greg asked.

"Yeah," she said. "I'm just trying to get rid of all this static before I shock myself or short out my computer." She made a face. "The air's so dry at this time of year."

"Oh, that's all?" he said. He jumped up, strode forward in a few steps, and poked her in the shoulder. The static vanished.

"That's convenient," she replied unthinkingly. The ferret looked slightly stunned, glancing around warily as if someone might have heard. "It's okay," she said with a grin. "I won't tell!"

"Oh, that's alright," he replied a bit distractedly. "I do have a reputation to maintain, and all, but it's at no risk. Particularly since almost no one has ever heard of me in the first place. But I'm not usually convenient without making a special effort. I hope it doesn't mean I'm getting sick, or something."

"You're not getting sick," the Tim announced from the kitchen. "You're not alive. And the waffles are ready."