What it feels like to program in Rust sometimes
The young man nervously rang the door-bell. A gruff man opened the door; after a few seconds of sizing him up, he nodded towards the inside, inviting him in.
They sat in the living-room. After a few tense seconds, the silence broke.
\
“Son… what are your intentions with my [u8]
?”
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“Uh… I'm just borrowing her, sir.”
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“Her curfew is 'a
, just so you know.”
\
“I'll have her back by then. I promise.”
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“You better. Now, son… tell me something. Are you two, you know… exclusive?”
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“Yes, sir.”
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“Then you better put a &mut
on it. That way the others know to stay away.”
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“Will do, sir.”
While they had been talking, a woman had walked into the room. He recognised her as his datæ's mother. Her stare, somehow, seemed even more penetrating than her husband's.
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“Well, sonny, let me just make sure you're presentable, alright?”
\
“Presentable, ma'am?”
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“Yes, presentable. It's the least you can do if you want to be her type! So tell me, do you implement Debug
and Display
?”
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The y