[ficlet] iCommercials: Rift (PC/Mac)
Because I'm a psycho and I like it that way.
PC/Mac, iCommercials, 'Rift'
It had been a long day for both of them. Mac was still up from the night before; he'd finished two university term papers and was just now taking a much-needed romp through iTunes to wind down. PC was doing... well, whatever it was PC did all day. Something involving way too many numbers for Mac's liking.
Bored with sifting through bland chart-topping pop hits, Mac strolled over to PC and glanced over his shoulder. "You're doing accounting again?" he asked in an awkward attempt at starting conversation, "Must be rough. Y'know, I was on iTunes after I finished my papers and I-"
"Yes, I know," PC snapped, "I'm doing boring real-world tasks while you gallivant around with your music and image editing and shiny new foreign peripherals and people-friendly programs because I'm old and boring and flawed while you're young and edgy and infallible. I get it."
Mac backed away, startled. PC could be quirky, sure, but he was usually such an easygoing sort of guy. "Dude, I never said-"
"I know you didn't." Numbers were flying across the page, almost hypnotic. PC was wicked with spreadsheets; Mac had always thought so.
"Well, what I was really getting at," Mac said cheerily, trying to lighten the mood, "is that I just downloaded this awesome new song. You wanna listen? I even converted it to mp3 for you. You could use a break, man..."
PC adjusted his glasses, barely glancing at the outstretched hand offered towards him. "I'm not up to networking. It's been a long day," he said, tone clipped and businesslike, "I'm going to shut down after I finish this."
"Oh." Mac dropped his arm back to his side, forcing a smile. "Sure. I understand. Some other time?"
Mac couldn't understand PC's muttered reply, and he was pretty sure he wasn't meant to. Shortly, PC saved the spreadsheet he'd been labouring over all day, and went to bed without another word to Mac.
"Whatever," Mac said to himself after his friend had shut down for the night, "be that way, you old crank." He turned back to his music folder.
It took him twenty minutes before he noticed that he was converting all his AAC files to WMA.
END
PC/Mac, iCommercials, 'Rift'
It had been a long day for both of them. Mac was still up from the night before; he'd finished two university term papers and was just now taking a much-needed romp through iTunes to wind down. PC was doing... well, whatever it was PC did all day. Something involving way too many numbers for Mac's liking.
Bored with sifting through bland chart-topping pop hits, Mac strolled over to PC and glanced over his shoulder. "You're doing accounting again?" he asked in an awkward attempt at starting conversation, "Must be rough. Y'know, I was on iTunes after I finished my papers and I-"
"Yes, I know," PC snapped, "I'm doing boring real-world tasks while you gallivant around with your music and image editing and shiny new foreign peripherals and people-friendly programs because I'm old and boring and flawed while you're young and edgy and infallible. I get it."
Mac backed away, startled. PC could be quirky, sure, but he was usually such an easygoing sort of guy. "Dude, I never said-"
"I know you didn't." Numbers were flying across the page, almost hypnotic. PC was wicked with spreadsheets; Mac had always thought so.
"Well, what I was really getting at," Mac said cheerily, trying to lighten the mood, "is that I just downloaded this awesome new song. You wanna listen? I even converted it to mp3 for you. You could use a break, man..."
PC adjusted his glasses, barely glancing at the outstretched hand offered towards him. "I'm not up to networking. It's been a long day," he said, tone clipped and businesslike, "I'm going to shut down after I finish this."
"Oh." Mac dropped his arm back to his side, forcing a smile. "Sure. I understand. Some other time?"
Mac couldn't understand PC's muttered reply, and he was pretty sure he wasn't meant to. Shortly, PC saved the spreadsheet he'd been labouring over all day, and went to bed without another word to Mac.
"Whatever," Mac said to himself after his friend had shut down for the night, "be that way, you old crank." He turned back to his music folder.
It took him twenty minutes before he noticed that he was converting all his AAC files to WMA.
END