Conversation in the car on the way to school. All three youths present. I'm explaining something I have to do for the day job.
"So you work for a bank?" Secundus asks.
"I used to work for a bank," I clarify. "Now I'm a consultant to a different bank. They hire me when they need something written, but I'm not an employee."
"So you're a hired gun."
"In a way. . ."
"Do you get a gun?"
"Of course not!" I grasp at a passing whimsy, trying to change the subject from firearms. "But I get a unicorn."
"You get a uniform?" Tertius pipes up from behind, suddenly excited.
"I said unicorn, not uniform."
"Oh," he says, clearly disappointed at the trade-off.