Two men are standing in front of me. Both sweating, both wearing shorts and sneakers. One of them looks like an athlete, the other one looks like he was coerced at gunpoint into running.

They look funny together. The athletic one is very tall, muscular, with skin so dark it contrasts with the gray tank top he's wearing. His companion is blond, extremely pale, and wears a permanent, cynical frown.

Maybe some world-weary billionaire and his bodyguard, taking a trip to the wrong side of the tracks. I try hard not to grin at the thought. They seem to be exactly what I need at the moment.

"Yes, thank you very much," I reply quickly.

They discuss the details, and I try not to stand in their way. In less than ten minutes, the furniture is crammed into the small apartment.

They even help to arrange them the way I planned. The only problem is, I haven't planned anything. Fortunately, my helpers are patient. The black one does the muscle work, the blonde one does the talking. He introduces himself as Bill. I don't have time to introduce myself, he asks so many questions.

"So, have you just moved in? Do you like it here?"

"It's very nice," I answer. "A beautiful place, really."

He looks around in my small realm of decay, probably wondering if I'm joking. Well, I'm not. I feel wonderful at the moment. Everything's going so well.

"How did you end up here?" he asks tentatively.

"There's a war in Europe, as you probably heard. I'm a Ropie."

He seems to be taken aback. Not by the fact, I hope, only by my choice of words. Ropie means European. It's a term for the new public enemy. The swarm that arrived to take your job. Compared to vermin and other animals quite often.

"You must have been through quite a lot then," he answers after a long pause.

It's an answer I like a lot. Not intrusive, but sympathetic. Much better than the ones I had received lately. He really has a way with words. I smile at him.

"Yes. But this day is almost perfect by now. You showed up at the right moment. Thank you so much."

I look at Bill's sidekick. He's very efficient. While Bill's chatting with me, he arranged the boxes with the kitchen utensils and clothes provided by the IAO in a neat pile.

"What are your plans here?" Bill inquiries.

"Well, tomorrow I'll enroll my son in the local school." I shrug. "Then I'll get a job."

He stares at me a bit perplexed. I know I sound categorical. Because I am.

I don't expect him to understand. He has no way to appreciate enough the lack of shooting outside. And he doesn't know me. At all.

"What do you do?" he asks.

"I strive to be a receptionist," I state proudly. "I'm afraid I'm too clumsy to be a waitress."

"I mean, what is your profession?"

"I don't have any at the moment," I say patiently.

"I mean, what did you do... you know... at home? Before the war."

He's insistent. And I really don't want to talk about my old life. I don't want them to feel sorry for me. And I want even less to feel sorry for myself. My answer comes out a little stiff.

"It doesn't matter. It's in the past. I was a lawyer, by the way. So, in the long run, I might become a legal assistant. Maybe. When I get to speak the language better."

"I think you speak it better than most already," the other man cuts in.

He finished moving our things, now inspecting the faucet over the kitchen sink, that had been dripping water no matter how much I tried to turn it off. I guess. I have no special proficiency in plumbing, so I can't really tell what he's doing. He looks confident enough, though.

"Yes, you should give it a try," says Bill meaningfully. Rather to his escort than to me. "Also, you could make more money by being a lawyer than a receptionist."

I can't help it, I laugh out loud.

"I think I'm aware of that. But, you know, it's not that easy."

"Why not?"

It's not Bill. It's his naive companion. He managed to stop the constant drips from the faucet, and now he's towering over me. He's a real giant. I have to look up to him. Has a nice voice though. Deep and smooth. So I explain the situation in detail to him.

"You know, Europe is a different place. It's very far, over the ocean. It has different people and different customs. Has a different law system, too. You know, the law is not like mathematics or physics, it's different everywhere. And while you have case law here, mostly, though with some traces of... never mind, in the continent it's something else. With all those acts, and regulations, and stuff, there's nothing in common with what you have here. Until you dig deeper, of course, because somewhere deep down we have literally everything in common. Surprise, huh? It's because people are the same everywhere, I guess."

He looks absolutely clueless. It's kind of cute how he tries to understand and fails. His face helps a lot to consider it cute instead of annoying. He looks insanely good while being dumb.

"So, long story short, my original profession is useless here." I shrug. "I'm sure there's a way for me to practice law here, but it must be complicated, and I don't have time for complications right now."

"Interesting." That's all he has to answer.

Bill clears his throat.

"So. You're a single mother. In need of a job."

"I'm a widow." I try not to sound hostile. These two are the kindest people I've met in the last few months.

He sighs. Shakes his head. Sighs again.

"Well, I think we might have something for you. We are looking for an assistant, aren't we, Mark?"

So the giant is called Mark. Good to know.

And he looks rather disapproving.