Sitting side by side going through the images that have been submitted for the Christmas slide show, glancing over, Ethan is a little surprised at how fast Liz is whizzing through the images.
“Uh, Liz. Aren’t you picking any?”
“No. They’re all mostly crap.”
“But we know that going in. There’s probably only gonna be a couple of photographs. We’re not looking for photographs, here, we’re picking snapshots, babe, not art.”
Liz frowns. “How do you mean?”
“This is more like a yearbook kind of thing, you know, candids of the student body, dances, pubs, fooling around, like that. Most of the pictures are going to be taken by people who can barely turn on a camera. Doesn’t matter. We’ll run ’em fast to some snappy music from Jamendo and it’ll be a slide show.”
“Oh.” Liz mouses over to the recycle bin and chooses ‘select all’ to restore hundreds of deleted images.
Ethan is aghast. “You’ve been deleting stuff?”
“Yeah. I thought, I mean they’re just digital copies.”
“Doesn’t mean that everyone who submitted doesn’t get a credit. Some people will want their pictures back. Mol suggested we put everything online forever. I don’t know if that’ll fly, but we don’t toss anything no matter how bad.”
“Then how do we make selections?”
“Put all the good stuff–” he notes her grimace and grins before continuing, “okay, the better stuff, in a first cut folder.”
Liz covers her face with her hands. “Sorry sorry sorry.”
“Look, it’s okay, this is a bad time.” Ethan swivels over and reaches out, enfolding Liz in his arms. “Maybe it’d be an idea to go back to the Res and get some sleep.”
She looks up and says, “I can’t. I close my eyes and I see Natasha laying there all covered in blood like she was. I can’t get it out of my mind.”
“Then why don’t we head over to the hospital and see how she’s doing?” asks Ethan.
