(Untitled)

[lesper]

Les walks into the Wasteland, sits down at a table, and rubs at each of his eyes in turn like someone who really, really misses a world full of coffee.

Comments

[undermyheel]

"Up late?" She manages to make the words sound very, very insinuating.

[lesper]

"Yes," says Les. "When do you want to start work on the fence?"

[undermyheel]

"As soon as possible," Claire says. "Whenever."

Now

[lesper]

He nods. "I, ummm, finished the plans, so . . . "

[undermyheel]

"That's what you were up all night doing?" Claire reaches over and brushes the hair off of his forehead.

[lesper]

Les smiles at her warmly, all sleepy eyes and unchanged clothes.

"It would've gone faster with a calculator. But . . . it's probably good for me to do things longhand anyway."

[undermyheel]

"Course. It keeps you... sharp."

She leans over and kisses his forehead, a soft brush of lips.

[lesper]

He touches her cheek lightly with one long-fingered hand; lets it fall.

"I hope so."

[undermyheel]

"You did the math right?"

Pulls herself back.

[lesper]

"I'll check it again before I give it to you. But . . . it should be fine."

[undermyheel]

"Baby, you just won the game of Chicago. What do you want?"

[lesper]

Les looks confused. What?

"What?"

[undermyheel]

"Don't you want a gift? A bonus? For good work."

She looks at him, curious.

No. Taking Ed home as a pet will not count.

[lesper]

" . . . why?" asks Les.

[undermyheel]

"You did good," she says. "You want a..." she can't think of anything off hand. "Lightbulb?"

[lesper]

"I don't have anything to do with it."