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 Posted: Sun Jan 10, 2016 11:38 pm
"Oh, ouch, " she clutched a hand to her chest dramatically, making a feigned expression of pain. "My fragile ego." She chuckled lightly, and didn't seem too disturbed by the lack of acknowledgement. Whatever he chose to do with it, the apology was there and sincere, and it wasn't as though Desdemona was going to offer another for something that was already said and done.
Stop calling me that, she looked vaguely taken aback by the suddenness of it, her lips pursing lightly. A moment or two later Desdemona shrugged it off, trying not to think too hard over it. "Alright then Fritz. My sincere apologies. Although in exchange, you could just come out and tell me what Fritz is short for already, " she teased, although she tried to be gentle about it. Really, she wasn't looking to wind him up exactly, but, "I mean, that would be your proper name, soooo..."
The fact that he leaned away did not go unnoticed. Still, it didn't discourage her. "Oh really?" Her brows arched and she gave a toothy smile, batting her eyes again. "Do I even want to know what you'd put me under, Fritz? - and wow, I swear that's not innuendo."
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Posted: Mon Jan 11, 2016 12:27 am
In retrospect, he didn't even know why Desdemona seemed to grate on his nerves more than she normally would have. Fritz had fought so many people as Celsus that had mocked him, taunted him, gotten under his skin - and yet, he'd never let it get to him, had laughed it off.
He found he could not laugh this off. He tried to get himself under control, tried to pull back that facade he'd always held onto so carefully, and yet it was shattering, splintering beneath his fingertips.
"Your ego," said Fritz, focused on the painting, but a tremor ran through his hand, and he shifted it, trying to keep it to a minimum. "is not fragile. It does seem to be rather large, but that's your own business, I suppose. I'm not going to feed into t."
He snorted. "Fritz is my proper name. And it's not short for Fitzpatrick, just in case you were wondering. If you really want to know, it's short for Frederick, but again, I won't answer to much else other than Fritz."
Desdemona was still leaning into his space. Fritz deliberately ignored her, and the way he had a sudden urge to just splash paint across the entire canvas until it bled black beneath his fingertips.
"That was most definitely," said Fritz, "innuendo. And no, you don't."
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Posted: Mon Jan 11, 2016 4:12 am
"The barbs, they just keep coming, " she gasped, clutching at her chest again with a distinct pout - trying to ignore the tremors of his hand, if only because then she'd ask, and if she asked, then they'd be back where they started again. It was an interesting little back and forth in that way. She waved him off then, chuckling to herself. "You're just jealous - you'd have an ego too if you looked like this. I get it. Stop being so down on yourself though darling, you're still quite pretty."
She laughed, glancing down at her book again. "Don't worry. You don't need to feed into it. Not you, not anyone." There was still an airiness playfulness about her voice, because it wasn't exactly as though he'd touched a nerve. But, no. Amphitrite, her true face, the part that mattered, she needed no validation.
However much she enjoyed it. Hungered for it.
Desdemona slapped her hand against her book when he said that, "See, I was wondering that. But if it was Fitzpatrick I'd have to wonder if your parents really loved you. Frederick, yes, that's much better than Fitzpatrick - so how did you wind up with Fritz instead of Fred? I mean, it definitely suits you more."
Why was she even talking so much? - god that was all but a mile a minute there. She didn't always blabber so much, did she? Well, no. No, she really didn't talk much at all, did she? She frowned suddenly, wondering if maybe 'inane' was another of the words he would've labeled Desdemona with.
"Accidental innuendo, I really didn't do it on purpose this time. I swear!" she shrugged off the silly moment of self-reflection, laughing again as she kept her eyes trained on her book, settling more comfortably on the ground.
It was only a minute or two before she asked, tentatively, "Hey, I know you're busy, sorry, but - are you any good at grammar questions, darling?"
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Posted: Mon Jan 11, 2016 10:38 am
He cast her a sideways glance that spoke volumes without having to utter a single word - though he did, because Fritz couldn't help himself.
"Pretty is not a word generally described for men," he said flatly. "And your idea of jealously is skewed. Or maybe just entirely delusional over the actual definition. You're perfectly free to think what you wish about yourself, but do me a favor and leave me out of it."
He pressed too hard onto the canvas, leaving behind a blot of paint in a spot that wasn't meant to have any. A flicker of irrational anger passed across his face, and Fritz lowered his hand, his other wrapping around it to grip his wrist and hold it steady. He did not look at Desdemona, teeth gritted against it, and said tightly, "I just found Fritz more...lighthearted than Fred. Fritz sounded a bit more cheerful, I had read it in a book and thought it pleasant."
He had to get away from here. Fritz let go of his wrist and reached for the brushes, dipping them into the water to clear them before picking up a piece of cloth to dry them.
"What do you mean, grammar question?"
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Posted: Wed Jan 13, 2016 6:34 am
Desdemona saw it, and quietly, she felt... not exactly deflated, nor defeated, but - not that she let on. To let on was to admit defeat, and that probably would've been exactly what he wanted. Instead she gave a sigh of exasperation and a roll of her eyes that read more playful than earnest. "First off, learn to take a compliment already - but really, Fritz, darling, relax. I was kidding."
Was it her that was making his hand shake and his jaw set? Desdemona had to wonder. Or was it something more? Not a question she could ask. He'd reacted almost violently the last time she'd prodded - and even now, some part of her was still sorely tempted to prod further. (How ironic that he mentioned 'lighthearted' now, sitting there all tense and clutching at his own wrist. A Fritz that was acting a Fred. Or was it the other way around? Who knew?) "Ooh, I see. Well, I'd have to agree with you. It's definitely more pleasant."
She laughed lightly, tapping the pages of her book with her fingers. "It means what it sounds like. I've got a test coming up next month, and I mean, I've got an answer key, but I've found just looking isn't really helping me all that much? - even just this one, see, " and whether he was actually looking or not, Desdemona still angled the book so he could if he wanted, "The second sentence of this passage here, it says: 'My work experience and education combined with your need for an experienced landscape supervisor have resulted in a relationship that would profit both parties.' Then the question is how it should be corrected? - but I mean, it seems fine to me, and the choices aren't doing much of anything for me...?"
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Posted: Thu Jan 14, 2016 1:03 am
She was stubborn, he had to give her that. Most people would have given up on him by now - and they had, he knew, most had. Tolliver had, Hitch had (not that the latter of these even mattered), and everyone else had, because there was no point in holding onto him anymore.
Everyone left him in the end. It was inevitable.
He felt the tremor threatening to return, and Fritz smoothed the cloth over the ends of the brushes, drying each of the bristles clean before placing them carefully in their spots in his case. He had a canvas wrap with little slots for each brush that could be rolled up, because, if nothing else, he knew how to organize his own things.
Desdemona's question caught him off guard. Fritz paused in his ministrations and turned to look at her, his brows drawing together in confusion as his eyes flickered over the sentence. He had to read it several times to catch the meaning of it, which should have been an indicator, but Fritz had no idea why she thought he would be able to answer that question.
He didn't understand a lot of things about her, really.
"Cut it in half," he said, sounding confused. "I don't...know what you mean for me to do, it just sounds like a lot of garbled together nonsense that needs to be shortened."
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Posted: Sun Jan 17, 2016 3:26 am
Desdemona watched with mild interest as he set to putting everything away, leaning back over a bit - strictly to get a better look, naturally. "I don't know much about painting, " which she doubted he'd care very much, but the point wasn't really to make him care. "How many different brushes do you have? - how many do you usually use? - are they expensive?" Too many questions, naturally, and again she internally chided herself for it - but then again, maybe it wasn't the same, but asking questions in the Negaverse had yielded more results than backlash.
She tried to ration it away. She might or might not have tried even harder if she'd known Natalie was endlessly curious about the world and people around her, to the point of annoyance. She'd always been a little lonely that way.
Hey, least he didn't exactly sound annoyed she'd asked. "I don't know, " she sighed as she tapped her fingers against the book with a slight furrowing of her brows. "It is awfully inane, isn't it? Did you need to do this sort of thing in high school? - I just don't really have anyone else to ask, " and she shrugged her shoulders. A statement that was and wasn't true. Technically she did, but if she didn't know then Poppy certainly wouldn't - and it wasn't like she could saunter up to Laurelite or Umber and ask them. That'd be a laugh.
"Shortened, though. That's a good idea. It really does sound garbled..."
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Posted: Sun Jan 17, 2016 10:28 am
"Several dozen," said Fitz distractedly, sliding another brush into its proper place. He had unrolled a length of canvas that had little slots for each one to fit into, and once it was full, he would roll it back up and secure it with strings that were attached at each end. "Depends on the brush." The sheer amount of questions Desdemona was asking, one right after the other, was making his pulse race, made the tremor rise further in his hands.
Can't keep up can't keep up stop it stop talking stop -
Fritz swallowed hard and gave a short shake of his head. "Not - I don't recall, high school was a long time ago."
The initial irritation with her had dissipated, replaced instead with a rising anxiety that seemed to clog his throat, making it difficult to breathe. Desdemona kept asking questions to which he didn't know the answer, and wasn't that always the case? He didn't know anything anymore, that much was obvious.
I can't answer, I can't do anything -
Fritz stood up abruptly, his face pale, and stuffed the last few supplies into his bag, fumbling with the canvas and the stand.
"Look, sorry, I just - I have to go," he said, the words tripping over one another in his haste to get them out. "Sorry. I can't - I don't remember - I don't know the answers - just - "
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Posted: Mon Jan 18, 2016 7:08 am
Desdemona didn't know what bought about the change. He was such a peculiar one that way - interesting maybe was the nicer word - one minute one way, and the other something wholly different, and triggered by some things so small and inconsequential. And he's surprised people want to analyze him. Even if she understood his frustration, now, Hvergelmir too fresh in her mind, she couldn't completely help herself.
"Hey. Hey, hey, hey, " she said softly, hoisting herself almost too smoothly up onto her feet. "Don't worry about it. Didn't mean to put you on the spot fr - Fritz. Sorry." It would not be welcome, but she went ahead and leaned up anyway, aiming to ruffle hair before he could protest. "It's fine, darling. I'll make it up to you next time, okay?"
She did have his number now, after all - and an address to go with it - lacked enough shame to do something with them. There was a brief, fleeting thought of offering help with his supplies - but she doubted he'd take it, however capable she was or wasn't. "See you soon! - give me a call if you need anything!" He wouldn't, or she couldn't imagine that he would. That was fine, too.
Desdemona leaned down and grabbed her bag, casually waving over her shoulder as she walked off. He was no project like Axton, no - there was no reason to keep bothering him, really - but she knew she would, without any shred of doubt. Maybe she was analyzing herself as much as him? Or... ?
It didn't really matter. Let it lie, Amphitrite. It was what it was, and for now, it was fine.
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