Isn't it strange we are in their house and not ten feet from them and yet our two families have never spoken, nor even been introduced? I am a bit uncomfortable.
They are arrayed in a family setting, and so are we. They are collected near the foyer and we are near the front door. The house is a rambling complex with an assortment of roofs in a shady noir (as in, I'm not sufficiently visual to describe it) floor plan which leads very soon out of sight.
We must gather our trappings. Plastic toys for our only child, a daughter, strewn about. Yes, yes, we really must go; I'm sure of it. We move about, preparatory to our exit.
Bit first here is a lady who needs assistance. This means professional office duty; else she would only ask for help.
I sit and I listen and make notes. "I see," I say, and "Do go on."
She has the voice of a senior haggard Asian. I glance at her for the first time. "She" is actually what looks to be a middle-aged Hawaiian with deep lines in his face. He is pressing an index finger directly into his brow between his eyes, which are closed. What's he doing, channeling?
To my right and utterly still is one who matches my first supposition based upon the voice I have been hearing. She also presses an index finger just above her eyebrows but her posture is otherwise unremarkable. She remains perfectly still, with her eyes and her mouth closed.
It is really getting on time for us to leave.