This is an homage. I leave it as an exercise to the reader to figure out what to.
The story has finally begun. I thought I’d be a lot less invested in this moment when it finally came. Instead, I’m a little shocked that it’s here. Obviously, twenty-three strips isn’t much of an accomplishment, but it means something to me, apparently. I should have gotten a bottle of wine.
It’s eleven hours since the comic was supposed to be up. I ran out of development time and went with what I had in hand. If Rey’s apartment develops some changes during this scene, just pretend those parts were buffering.
REY: Hey Lina, I'm home.
LINA: Hey Chica! You're looking a little blue. Crappy day?
REY: I hate my job. Every day is a crappy day.
LINA: It can't be that bad.
REY: You're right. It's not. It's just so... meaningless. Tweak this code, rewrite that, debug this. Compile. Reset, rebuild, abort, retry, fail. It's dull, dry work on a dull, dry product, for dull, dry people. It's eating my soul.
LINA: I didn't know you felt that way.
REY: I try not think about bad things when I don't have to. I think I want to not think about bad things for the rest of the weekend.
LINA: I'm moving out.