Sine decided not to follow up by asking why Mink kept talking in questions. "Do the two of you live around here?" she asked instead.
"Oh no," Con responded. "This is just a quiet place where we come to think. Well, among doing other things, nudge nudge, wink wink."
"Then, if you know the area," Cosecant said quickly, waving her hand to prevent Con's gaze from slipping back to his wife, "Perhaps you can give us directions. Or draw us a map!"
"A map? Wait, Csc, do you not trust Signum to guide us correctly?" Sine asked of the security officer.
|IT'S THE BEARING, SEE|
"If that's her case, I'd say this space was valid navigation," Con remarked. "Me and Mink, we're on the brink of lacking all notation." He rose from the devil's lap. She also stood up to fold her umbrella back together.
|HAVE 'EARRING PROBLEMS?|
Cosecant frowned. "Which is... not really giving us a heading."
"Oh, is THAT what you wanted?" Mink mused.
"Well, what's a heading when you can look into higher dimensions," Con stated. "For they can help you with your travel, if you've got the right inventions." He then reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a remote control, wiggling it back and forth.
Sine blinked. "We need one of those then?"
"What you need, trig ladies, is to check your logistics. For the probability you seek - it's alongside statistics."
"Still not a heading," Csc sighed. "Please, can't you just plot us some coordinates? On a Cartesian plane, for instance?"
"A Cartesian plane?" Mink laughed. "Don't you know he's the box function? Makes sense that he'd allude to a box plot, right?"
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