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ART and I had just spent sixty cycles on a very productive cargo run that didn't go poorly at all (except for a little bit right at the end, and ART had my arm reattached as soon as we were in the wormhole, so I counted that as a win), but sixty cycles was a long time with only ART around to irritate me. I was (almost) glad to get Ratthi's invitation when we popped back into real space, and responded as soon as I confirmed we'd be able to make the station in enough time to celebrate... whatever this academic honor was, it didn't really matter, as long as Ratthi could use it as an excuse for a party.
It wasn't until Ratthi replied with a message full of amusement sigils that I reread the message I'd sent to him, the one I'd hardly spent a moment writing, and the word we -- as in we'll be there -- stuck out to me as much as if I'd added emphasis; when exactly had I turned from thinking in first person singular to this, and how had it been, in the end, so easy?