|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sat Oct 13, 2012 12:47 pm
 |
|
|
 |
Email to Nadja: Stormy Afternoons
Hi
Let me qualify the rest of this email by saying I already drank a lot more than is advisable and hav another drink. I shouldn't be sedning this, I mean drunk calling and texing is bad enough but sitting down and writing an email? Can only go to really bad places but hey., today can't get much worse so why not?
Glad you decided not come to the faire, because it was s**t. It was fine and normal and I was going to meet my friends but then I spooted this girl. I haven't mentioned her before because... feeling a bit conflicted. She's a Rocket, see. I should have repoted about her before now, I know I should but I felt... I felt bad. I wanted to know why, you know? What led her to doing that? Pople don't just go join organized crime for fun, there had to be a reason she did it, something that went wrong in her life. She doesn't seem like a bad person but shje does bad things, you know? Maybe I shouldn't have gone up to her today, should have just left it but I wanted her to know that if she was planning anything then I wouldn't just stand by and see people hurt just because I knew her, or had met her a few times and.......
She had this friend, right? He was an arsehole by th way, he calling me a ******** commie. But she had this friend, and when I met her before she'd been looking after his pokemon. I guessed he was missing, after some kind of rocket mission thing. He was with her at the faire and... well he looked the part, have to say. Big scar down his face, tough looking Absol, and of course the bad attitude and offhand racism. That's what 'bad guys' are meant to be like but no matter what media and crap say I know it can't be true about all Rockets. Like I said, mostly I think bad things in their lives must have driven them into it all. Normal people doing bad things, because it's amazing what gets normal; like those experiments like MIlgram and the Stanford Prison one.
Oh! The reason I first throught she was a rocket was when I first met her she had a Glaceon with her. I knew it, belonged to my old best friend Jack who just vanished one day and that is a whole other story ending in horribleness. Maybe I already told you some of it, can't remember right now. Anyway, she had him - Skiron. I already thought that Jack was a Rocket after meeting somebody at the Contest (rememebr the one that got raided?) knew him ever well turned out to be a Rocket. Did that make sense? Contest, find out Jack probably Rocket > See girl with his Glaceon, assume she is Rocket > see her Rocket branded pokedex and get a kind of admission from her > see her at the faire along with her friend/boyfriend/whatever.
Anyway, why am I sending this anyway? I supposed I wanted to just talk, I haven't seen you in ages and your phone's off. I don't know anyone else near my age on this Island... and this is not what I came to this ISland for. I came to get away and make a fresh start which hey, I have, but I didn't want to make a new start in conflict! I don't want to fight some big criminal empire but I have to don't I? I can't just run away from a comittment I made to my friends.
I suppose I'm just feeling crap because I'm loney, and because that Rocket girl looked at me like I was some kind of b*****d when I let her know I wouldn't let her hurt my friends. I don't know, I shouldn;t feel bad about that! I also feel crap because I've drunk too much, know I have and I haven't stopped all the same. That was supposed to be another bit of the fresh start, I mean it never got bad bad but I decided that I should really only drink with other people now, but since I got mixed up in this Rocket crap I've not stuck to it all that well. It's not a problem yet, but if I don't stop it I know it could be and I don't want to go down that road, really I don't.
I shouldn't be writing this, sending this to you but really there isn't anyone else. My old friends from work.,.. well I left, and I haven't spoken much to any of them yet. I didn't realise how much they were work friends I suppose, or maybe I'm just being stupid there too and I shoudl email on of them or call or something. I'm not though, I'm writing to you and destorying any last little bit of class maybe you thought I had. I miss you, you know? You've been a really good friend to me since we met, and I hope ths doesn't spoil that. I shouldn;t even send this, knowing it's dumb and drunk and I'm oprobably going to because I know once I'm sober again I;d just smile at you and tell an anacdote and never say anythin was wrong. I'm not sure I want to be here anymore, but I can't leave.
So if you don't think I'm a total freak after this maybe we can meet up sometime soon. By then I'll becheerful again I'm sure, and you won't have to put up with this crap from me; I know you're busy with a life full of your own problems.
Maybe see you soon.
Dima.
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Aug 29, 2013 8:46 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Sep 10, 2013 5:41 am
|
|
|
|
 He turned the metal disc over, inspecting it from every angle and smoothing his thumb over its surface. //You know... I feel a bit conned here.//
//Oh? How so?// His father looked up from his tablet, white brows raised high over black eyes.
Dith regraded him thoughtfully. The old man was trying to look as relaxed as ever but it was hard to relax in the horrible plastic chairs provided for visitors. His shirt and suit trousers were creased too, and there was a mark on one sleeve of his white shirt where he'd lent on something grimy. His usually so neat long straight white hair was coming out of its French braid too and-
//How so, Dima?//
//Oh,// he gave himself a mental shake, //sorry, I got distracted. Well it just doesn't seem like a very fair trade. Like swapping a quiet Wednesday afternoon shift for the one at new Year's, or a Friday night after a big tournament or football game or something.//
//Okay, you've lost me.// Long elegant fingers swiped the surface of the tablet to close what he'd been doing and Konstantin slid the sleek little machine back into its case. //Swapping what for what?//
//This.// Dith waved the medal and frowned as he waited for the next thought to arrive, the effects of major sedation were still wearing off so it took a bit longer than usual. //I mean it's very nice but... I'm not sure it makes up for all the Bond villain jokes I'm going to get for the rest of forever.//
//Ahh. Yes, I can imagine that being something that comes up a lot.// Konstantin gave a wan little smile. //May I see?//
Dith shrugged and passed it over. //Sure.// As his father took the metal disc and started to study it Dith sighed and shifted against his pillows. "At least nobody died," he added, slipping briefly into English as he thought about his friends. Luke and Dove were badly hurt though; there was still time for something to go drastically wrong there, and if they made it there was the chance that they would take permanent harm from their injuries.
"Mmmh." Konstantin held the medal in his palm and looked down at it, jet black eyes studying the inscription intently. //Dima... I suppose there's still no persuading you to give all of this up?//
Give it up? If he hadn't been there to give some immediate treatment things might have gone differently for Luke and Dove. On the other hand however it was tempting. Dima reached up to lightly touch the dressings covering the right side of his face. Multiple lacerations across the forehead, temple and cheek. Shard of metal an inch across stuck right into the sphenoid bone, eyelids shredded. Getting away from the risk of things like that and things worse still sounded very tempting. Then again back on the first hand....
Dith sighed and took the medal out of his father's hand. //No. They need me. They need everyone they can get and my skills are invaluable out there. We've had this conversation before, I'm only following your example.//
//We haven't had it in person and I still don't accept that,// Konstantin replied, sitting back in the plastic chair as much as it allowed and smoothing a hand wearily over his hair. Looking down the slim man was silent for a few moments but eventually he looked back up, weariness and worry written all over his face. //They're nothing to do with you Dima. Come home, be safe. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you.//
Was it really worth this? Causing so much stress, fear and pain to his own family? He had seen the look on his father's face when he'd told him he'd lost the eye. Dith looked down at his hands, the disc of metal cradled in them. Heroism. He hadn't set out for anything like this, he had just wanted to protect his friends... and that hadn't changed. //Dad I... I'm sorry, but the answer is no. I can't walk away from this, it matters. It's all very well saying that my friends are nothing to do with me - which isn't true anyway - but even if they weren't when do you take action? They came for the X but I was not an X so I said nothing... or however that thing goes. Anyway, the point is I'm not going to walk away from this.//
Konstantin sighed and rubbed his face. //Dima, I really think-//
//Kostya, shut up.//
Both men looked up with the automatically mildly guilty expressions that tone of voice from Il'ya Vladamirina brought out in them. The statuesque woman had appeared without them noticing, quite a feat given the tap-tap her stiletto heels made on the hard floor. //Coffee,// she passed a take away cup to her husband before moving to perch on the end of her son's bed and sip at her own drink. Like Konstantin she gave off an air of rumpled style; her wine red shirt had escaped marks but was creased, as were her trousers and her waistcoat. The most obvious sign of hurried travel and no time to change on her however was her iron grey and silver bun from which locks of wildly curly hair were escaping. Capturing one such lock with an irritated huff she shoved it back in place with the jab of a bobby pin. //Now then.// She fixed Konstantin with a fierce golden gaze that could have nailed jelly to a wall.
//Now then, my dear?// said Konstantin; with his initial surprise passed his demeanor became smooth and light again. After so many years with Il'ya he was rather more difficult to nail down than jelly.
//Don't you 'my dear' me Konstantin,// she replied in edged tones. //You need to stop interfering in our son's life. He's old enough to make his own decisions, to choose to take whatever risks he wishes if he believe it's right.//
Konstantin lowered his cup from his lips and shook his head, a slow anger beginning to light his dark eyes. //You always were the idealist Il'ya, or perhaps the vengeful one? Do you think revenge will do him any good now? It won't change what's happened to him. This is your fault, you trained him into this. Did you really think it was appropriate to take a thirteen year old child with you when you ran off to commit arson attacks, attacks that would have had you sent off to a work camp too or worse if you were caught? And then were would our children have been? I took the blame for the printing press to keep all of you safe and you knew that but you risked yourself and Dima anyway!//
//Oh, this old chestnut,// Il'ya hissed, golden eyes blazing and lips curling into a snarl. //While we're bringing up the past I think you should remember that I wanted our places reversed, I hated playing the stupid woman who had no idea what her husband had been doing and I only went along with it so that one of us would still be there for our children and because we both knew the NKVD would be more likely to believe ignorance of me than you. When you were taken was I supposed to stop our activism, to sit idly by and wait for things to improve? No, I went on without you because I had to and I stepped up my actions because our voices were not being heard; I needed help to do that and who else could I truly trust? Dima wanted to help me, he-//
//Was thirteen and you could have got him killed, you-!//
//Hey!// Dith waved his arms, stopping his father mid sentence and causing both of his parents to look at him in surprise, as if a chair had just interrupted them. //Hello?// he gave another wave for effect. //I'm sitting right here! Could you argue about me some time when I'm not please?// The intensity of it disturbed him, his parents disagreed often but fought? Never. He could recall on the fingers of one hand the times he had seen his father angry like that before and it had never been with his mother. They were fighting because of him, decisions he was making, and the thought of that made him feel ill... or maybe that was the morphine.
Konstantin looked about to add something more, black eyes still glittering with anger, but he restrained himself with a slow exhale and took another sip of coffee. //Sorry Dima.//
Il'ya was not so easily put off from a fight once she got going but in this particular instance she too got a handle on her temper and gave a sharp nod. //But my point remains,// she continued, unapologetic. //Dima will make his own choices. You might not think this fight matters but it does to him and we do not back down when things are important to us. He will go on... though perhaps he will learn to handle a firearm?// This last was directed to Dith with a querying head tilt.
Dith frowned and shifted, still unsettled by the display of anger between his parents. //I'm not learning to shoot.// He wouldn't be responsible for taking a life. Some people seemed to have trouble with the concept that Rockets were still human but he had not lost sight of that and didn't intend to either. //I think I will teach Luna Reflect though.// Would Reflect stop a bullet or shrapnel? He didn't know but at lest the move could slow a projectile or debris.
//No? Well, defensive techniques are better than nothing I suppose,// Il'ya shrugged, long resigned to her son's dislike of violence.
Konstantin looked down into his coffee and sighed. //Well I can see I'm out voted so-//
//Hey!// Dith lobbed the only thing he had to hand; the medal smacked Konstantin lightly on the head.
//Hey what? What have I done now?// Konstantin asked, catching the medal neatly before it hit the ground.
//My life decisions are not a democracy. It's dictatorship all the way,// Dith replied without rancor, smiling a little at his father. He knew the old man was worried and he hated that was worrying his family but he couldn't give up on a cause that mattered. //I'm sorry,// he added, //but that's not going to change anything. We've made huge progress; their base has been destroyed and we arrested a large number of their operatives including an elite.// For the first time it felt like they might have the upper hand, or at least that it was a little less David and Goliath.
Il'ya gave a nod and a look of approval but as she opened her mouth to speak the 'bing bong' that announced the end of afternoon visiting hours sounded. //Ah, our cue to leave,// she observed. //We'll head to your apartment Dima, and pick up your pokemon from the Centre on our way. I should hope they've all been healed by now.//
//I should hope so too,// Konstantin added, getting to his feet and stretching with a sigh. //Get some rest Dima,// he added, leaning over to kiss his son's cheek and pressing the medal back into his hand.
//I will,// Dith promised, exchanging a cheek kiss with his mother next. //Don't worry about coming back this evening, I'm going to sleep though as much as I can and get myself discharged tomorrow.//
//If you're fit!// Konstantin said with a wag of his finger and a raise of his eyebrows.
Dith snorted. "I will be fine, I am Russian! Our vodka-bloodstream gives us super healing powers!" he intoned in English, gleaning a brief chuckle from his father and a little smirk from his mother.
As soon as they were gone Dith sighed and shifted into a more horizontal position, the smile sliding from his face to be replaced by exhausted misery. He touched the dressings on his face again and closed his fist around the medal. He couldn't walk away from this conflict but it still didn't seem like a fair trade.
He closed his eye and tried to get some sleep. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Apr 30, 2014 11:45 am
|
|
|
|
It had been a hell of a day and in his job that was... well, it wasn't just a matter of cursing at the computer and having to re-do the whole spreadsheet tomorrow. Knowing you had done everything you could was little comfort when you had to give the news to the parents of a fifteen year old girl, to her ten year old sister who was clinging to her father and sobbing and -
It shouldn't have happened, it wasn't fair; if the driver had been going a little slower her heart wouldn't have stopped on his table, she might be in recovery now.
He had finished his shift at six am, gone home, changed, thrown some food and drink into a bag and left the apartment again; despite being exhausted from the hectic twelve hour stint he had no desire to sleep. He didn't fancy the gym either or anywhere that might be full of people and so he released Dolly from her pokeball, scrambled up onto the enormous Rapidash, and set off for the edge of the city. Once beyond its limits he urged the muscular fire type into a ground eating canter, turning her towards the small woodland to the south.
They taught you not to get attached, to not take it personally, that it wasn't your fault, but he didn't know anyone who was able to follow those teachings.
How long did it take to get there? He didn't really notice but Dolly was snorting and blowing by the time they got there and his legs felt stiff, muscles that didn't get used in that way all that much complaining about riding so far and so fast bareback. As they passed under the boughs, far from any path, he slowed Dolly to a walk and dismounted before calling her back wordlessly. His lower back felt a little bruised, the backpack he'd chucked everything into must have been bouncing against him. He swung the bag off his back, took out a glass bottle covered in condensation, swung the bag back up and wandered onward with the bottle in his hand. After a while he opened it and brought it to his lips but as the clear harsh liquid touched them he lowered the bottle, cursed to himself and poured the liquid out on the ground. Probably shouldn't do that with vodka but there was nobody here to know he had and it was better than drinking it. Alcohol never solved anything, he should know better than to think he could drown out the world.
The empty bottle went back in his bag and he moved deeper into the forest.
With spring well under way the air smelled of life, and hidden creatures called and chirped in the trees and the patchy undergrowth as they sought mates or defended territory. It was peaceful. He reached down to his belt, took off the plain grey pokeball and released Viktor. The golden Espeon glanced around to get his bearings before looking up at his trainer; they held eyecontact for a few moments before setting off in silence side by side.
It didn't get easier - it never got easier - but you learned how to deal with it not being easy or at least he had and that was something at least.
After an inderterminate period of time they came across a stream and Dith retrived the empty vodka bottle from his bag, kneeling down to fill it with the fresh clean looking water. Of course it was probably full of all kinds of bacteria that you didn't get in tap water or bottled water but he was confident enough in his immune system to drink it. Anyway, he was gasping and would have drunk just about anything that was below thirty percent proof that didn't actually have unpleasant things floating in it. He took off his boots and socks, rolled up his jeans to his knees and dangled his feet in the water. He then promptly took his feet back out of the water because it was freezing cold. Instead he shuffled around to put his back to a tree, lent against it and stretched out his legs as he sipped at the water. Viktor curled up beside him and closed his eyes.
He yawned.
A breeze sighed through the forest.
His hand relaxed and the bottle tipped over; it rolled away a short distance, trickling water out over the forest floor where it came to rest against a tree root.
Time passed.
Dith awoke abruptly to the sound of Viktor growling and was on his feet before he knew what he was doing, working on instincts honed by a few years of mortal peril. Viktor stood in front of him, hackles raised and tail lashing. He was facing off against- against a Mewtwo. The Mewtwo, the one from the mines. It - she? - was holding his backpack and glaring at him, a pale green globe of energy crackling in her palm.
the Mewtwo hissed,
Dith's fists clenched involuntarily. "The hell are you doing?" he demanded, reaching slowly towards his other pokeballs. They could take her, from what he'd seen her do in the mines Viktor could take her alone in fact but better to play it safe.
the lace-patterned legendary replied imperiously, the energy ball in her hand expanding slightly.
While he hadn't understood his friend's words the tone of them was clear enough to Dith; a low hiss of controlled anger. It seemed pretty clear to him that this wouldn't end without a fight but before he could decide how to approach the impending combat Viktor straightend from his threatening crouch and yawned at the other psychic type.
The Mewtwo frowned. The bag fell from her hand, the ball of energy disappated with a faint pop, and she promptly folded up on the ground as deeply asleep as Dith had been a few moments ago.
On closer inspection she looked thin, Dith was sure that he could see bones on her frame that hadn't been visible when he had seen her before. She had been taking his pack, the only thing in it was food. Clearly wherever she had come from she hadn't learned to survive in the wild and yet here she was, apparently alone.
Dith sighed and turned to Viktor. "Now what?"
In the end he refilled his bottle of water from the stream and sat back down, waiting for the Mewtwo to come around. When she did he handed the bag back to her. She took it suspiciously and looked even more suspicious when he promised that if she left empty in the branches of a distinctive tree near where he had entered the woods today he would arrange for more food to be put in it tomorrow.
Why would he do that, she wanted to know? Humans had only ever done her wrong or used her to their own ends - that was her interpretation of what had happened in the mines it seemed, that they had used her. Dith had only been able to shrug and say that it was the right thing to do, which was true but not really the reason he had offered.
Nothing ever made days like this alright, nothing made them easier, but one of the ways to cope with failing one person was to do something for another.
He and Viktor left the Mewtwo sitting under the tree devouring half a loaf of homemade bread. Camphoreon city called, he needed to get some more sleep if he was going to be alert for his next shift tomorrow.
Tomorrow would be better - had to be better.
Anyway, he needed to go food shopping.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jan 16, 2015 3:15 pm
|
|
|
|
Dear Diary - 1st Jan 2015 [Translated from Russian for your convenience]
Forty seven. I am old. If I live as long again as I already have I'll be doing really well, it's a scary thought no matter which way you turn it. I don't feel old, but I feel like I should feel old? It's strange. Outside of work I'm pretty sure all my friends are under the age of thirty, and in work I seem to have more in common with the younger lot as well. My peers are... settled, I suppose. All of them are married or in a stable relationship and most of them have children, and that's exactly what I always thought would happen to me. It was what I wanted as well.
I thought I'd be a good dad; I'm patient, I like a lot of the stuff a lot of kids like, I like to think I could set a good example for a lot of things. Not for 'safe hobbies' though, not by a long shot. Past tense though, because I'm forty seven. If I met the perfect woman now - or if Nadja came back and things went as I hoped they might have - and say in two years we were really stable then I'd be forty nine. If we had a child then I'd be seventy or so when they were twenty and is that fair to a child? I don't think so. I think I've missed the boat, for children and maybe a relationship too. I feel so silly and melancholy recording this. I suppose it's probably a midlife crisis or something. I can't really tell anyone about it though now can I? I wouldn't know where to start for one and for another, I'm the one who is there when other people have problems and - stupid though I'm sure it is - I don't want to mention to anyone that I might not be perfectly okay in case that stops them coming to me with their issues.
Well, there's nothing I can do about any of that right now so I'm going to get up, get breakfast to shake off this hangover, and enjoy my birthday. You're only forty seven once after all.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2015 12:12 pm
|
|
|
|
Asking for it, AKA volunteering
He'd dithered about it long enough, too long really. He wasn't sure why, maybe because things had been so quiet or maybe because part of him - a significant and sensible part - had been a bit afraid. Aforementioned part was weighed out by the rest of him however and so eventually he had motivated himself to get to the center and request a date to take the physical agility test.
Given he had been preparing himself for it for ages he hadn't been too worried about the test itself, more about what it represented; it was asking for it more or less now wasn't it, volunteering? He couldn't not though, couldn't live with himself if he hid away when he could help people and when some of those people were people he cared about.
It was done now and done for the best; he had passes, would have been very disappointed in himself if he hadn't. KSOVD was a bit of a mouthful and sounded like a painful acronym, he had joked with one of the others who had passes the test that day. She hadn't appeared to be all that amused and he'd headed home after that.
In the privacy of his own living space he dug the medal in its box out of the draw and sat looking at it for a while, running his thumb over its surface. His father was not going to be pleased and his mother was probably going to be too pleased but he supposed that was at least balanced. He turned the disc of metal in his hand so that it caught the light and shone it up on the ceiling, then around and around in slow circles. He'd made the right choice, he was pleased with his choice, but he was still concerned; he didn't want to lose any more bits, to see any more friends that badly hurt. The best way to ensure that however was to train harder, not to hide away. He had been doing better with working less, making more time for working with his pokemon, and he hoped that was enough.
Letting out a soft sigh Dith returned the medal to its anonymous box and put it back in its draw. For some moments he stood there looking down at it, still thinking. When the thought process reached its conclusion his gaze transferred to the box next to it. Be prepared, that was another good way to avoid maiming.
Dith reached into the draw again, took out the second box, and carried it through into the bathroom. Once in front of the mirror he opened up the box, extracted spherical object that nestled inside, and removed his eyepatch. He looked up into one golden eye and one blank socket. With his expression uncharacteristically grim he raised the black orb with its glinting multi-coloured center to his face and slotted it in place. Be prepared and, if possible, have some small element of surprise. When you were asking for it you needed every advantage you could get.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Aug 25, 2015 6:35 pm
|
|
|
|
"Sooooo, what do you think?" Dith asked, leaning against the doorframe with a grin on his scarred face. "Come on, you like it no?"
The mewtwo, who had been studying the art print on the opposite wall, turned to face him. Her expression was difficult to read but that might just have been because Dith wasn't used to reading a face like hers. <> she said with apparent reluctance. <>
Dith grinned some more, shrugged, and nodded. "I thought you might like it, do you?"
<> she gestured to the pale blue machine sitting on the neatly made bed.
"A house warming gift, with no obligations or assumptions or anything attached. Just a gift. Is that alright?" She was a very wary creature, which he supposed was understandable but regardless of the cause it meant he knew he needed to tread carefully so as not to spook or anger her.
Lovelace lifted the computer with a flick of telekinesis and summoned it over to her. <> she said as she plucked it out of the air and opened it to inspect the screen. <>
"Good!" Dith beamed. "All the set up should be easy, and its Windows 10 so none of the 8 bullshit. Oh! And I got some bubbly, do you like?"
Lovelace blinked, her brow knitting in what was obviously - even to Dith - confusion. < bubbly?>>
"Ah! Slang. It's ah, fizzy wine. Prosecco? I like it better than Champagne myself." Dith started to head towards the kitchen, raising his voice so as to still be audible as he went. "If you don't like it then I can make tea or coffee? Also I've got some strawberries and cream, and I made some dark chocolate and ginger cookies, some milk chocolate chip cookie, also some shortbread, flapjacks, and there's icecream in the freezer." Okay so he's over-catered a bit but he always did and it would all get eaten in the end, whatever baked goods didn't go in the next couple of days he would take to work. Interns were always hungry.
<<...I will try the Prosecco, thank you,>> came Lovelace's mental voice, somehow managing to leave Dith with the feeling of a preceding ellipsis even though there was no sound and he couldn't see her for visual cues.
"Great!" Dith fetched it out of the fridge and found a couple of the fancy flute-shaped glasses he'd bought some time ago at the back of a cupboard. "And to eat? I am having ah... strawberries I think, they go bad fastest."
<> Lovelace said, the soft pad of her feet announcing her entry into the kitchen. <>
Dith looked around at the chaos of mixing bowls, baking trays, spoons, knives, wrappers, and other detritus. "Heh," he turned with a grin, "you know the housewarm-ee is supposed to stay out of the terrible mess until the terrible room-mate had cleaned up. I was in a rush. Here! Let me take you mind off the flour-based warzone." So saying he popped the cork on the bubbly and poured out two glasses, one of which he handed to Lovelace. "So then, to new room-mates?"
Lovelace accepted it with what looked like a raise of one brow ridge. <>
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Aug 29, 2015 12:16 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
(Currently an Onix)
