Andromeda, Your Move #72 nonsense
Title: Famous Last Words
Fandom: Andromeda
Author: karrenia
Characters:Dylan POV
Prompt: #72 nonsense
Disclaimer: Andromeda belongs to Fireworks Productions and Tribune Entertainment, it is not mine.
Dylan had set up the basketball games as much for nostalgia’s sake as he enjoyed the sport. The trouble was in finding someone interested in playing an occasional game of one-on-one.
His former second-in-command, Gaheris Rhade had once proven both a quick study in the intricacies of the game and a good player, and sometimes Dylan did have to wonder if the other man had not simply played because he enjoyed the game but because it was a point of that legendary stubborn Neitzcheian pride that made it impossible for the other man to back down from a challenge. Or perhaps Dylan had it all backwards, that even though it was a human game, the other had agreed to play because Dylan wanted to.
Following shortly on the heels of that particular thought, Dylan wondered if Tyr Anaaszi was of the same mind-set. The last match that they had played that irrepressible smug grin never once left the other man’s face as he flawlessly executed a slam-dunk into the basket; it had been both a bit humbling to watch and a bit like watching a predator, stalking its prey.
Dylan, of course, thought he was doing his best not to allow his expression reveal what he was thinking; beyond maybe an involunatary sallow that made his Adam’s apple quiver ever so slightly, a blush of mingled anger and embrassament at being showed up at his own game; an twitch of his mouth; but he thought that he handled it fairly well.
Tyr, for his part, merely smiled, and tossed the now badly dented ball back to him, saying, only, “It is your move.”
Fandom: Andromeda
Author: karrenia
Characters:Dylan POV
Prompt: #72 nonsense
Disclaimer: Andromeda belongs to Fireworks Productions and Tribune Entertainment, it is not mine.
Dylan had set up the basketball games as much for nostalgia’s sake as he enjoyed the sport. The trouble was in finding someone interested in playing an occasional game of one-on-one.
His former second-in-command, Gaheris Rhade had once proven both a quick study in the intricacies of the game and a good player, and sometimes Dylan did have to wonder if the other man had not simply played because he enjoyed the game but because it was a point of that legendary stubborn Neitzcheian pride that made it impossible for the other man to back down from a challenge. Or perhaps Dylan had it all backwards, that even though it was a human game, the other had agreed to play because Dylan wanted to.
Following shortly on the heels of that particular thought, Dylan wondered if Tyr Anaaszi was of the same mind-set. The last match that they had played that irrepressible smug grin never once left the other man’s face as he flawlessly executed a slam-dunk into the basket; it had been both a bit humbling to watch and a bit like watching a predator, stalking its prey.
Dylan, of course, thought he was doing his best not to allow his expression reveal what he was thinking; beyond maybe an involunatary sallow that made his Adam’s apple quiver ever so slightly, a blush of mingled anger and embrassament at being showed up at his own game; an twitch of his mouth; but he thought that he handled it fairly well.
Tyr, for his part, merely smiled, and tossed the now badly dented ball back to him, saying, only, “It is your move.”