(Untitled)
Candice arrives home after a very, very long and ridiculous day, during which she good-naturedly puts up with every flavor of shenanigans from one of her old contacts. The guy is entertaining, truly, and so are his friends, in an old-fashioned way, but that good old boys club is not one to which she belongs and they definitely treat her as The ( Read more... )
Martel glances up before he gets up, crossing the room to open the door and lean in it, eyebrow raised silently. He's not entirely sure he wants to ask, but probably the eyebrow speaks for itself.
Reply
She makes an expressively annoyed face, and indicates that she needs just a moment.
"I'm absolutely not telling you--you saw me twenty minutes ago, anyway, why would I have changed clothes? I'm hanging up. I'm very glad you missed me, but I'm hanging up. That's nice. Good night."
Click.
And a long-suffering look Martel's way.
Reply
"Friend of yours?" he asks, mildly, pushing himself off the side of the doorframe and retreating back into his study, leaving it open for her.
Reply
"I've had my ass grabbed so many times today I think it must be entirely black and blue," she says, irritably, which is sort of like an answer ('yes, but reluctantly', because Candice puts up with all types of behavior), and crosses the room to perch on the edge of his desk.
Reply
He lounges--there's no other word for it, really--in his chair behind the desk, regarding her with something somewhere between exasperation, genuine annoyance and just amusement. "I'll check for you later," he offers, because the alternative is 'I'll kill everyone who did it' and firstly no, and secondly he's already repressing madly, what's one more thing.
Reply
"Well, thank you," she drawls, with a small smile, "You look a bit irked, though."
See, Martel, this is something you haven't actually discussed that much beyond in the theoretical. Also, Candice is relationshipdumb. So is he, but in a different way.
Reply
"Don't I usually?" Not so much as he used to, no, which is something he's probably still adjusting to himself--by the sounds of that assumption that he does. He's contemplative, though, considering how best to respond other than in useless quips.
Reply
She half-smiles, and shrugs. Maybe she's used to him looking semi-annoyed during ordinary tasks--but she likes to think she brings out something else in him, sometimes. However, she doesn't say anything, because he looks like he's thinking.
Reply
"I have a certain objection to other men putting their hands on you," he says, finally--he pitches it dry, like that'll smooth it over.
Reply
"Well, so do I," she responds, immediately, blinking, "Hence the bad temper I'm in. They're...you know, guys who think the way you bond with women is to treat 'em like the bar wench, I guess. And the one just does it because he likes seeing me flail."
To be fair, he's hardly the only man who's enjoyed that, historically, where she's concerned.
Reply
His expression is probably a familiar one by this point--usually heralding a meandering explanation he's not sure how to give of something he's not used to having to explain. After a long, consternated pause, he exhales. "Yes. Well."
Reply
"Well?" Candice prompts, cautiously, observing him.
Reply
"It's not--" he winces slightly, for reasons known only to himself, "--done. It's disrespectful of not only you but myself, and our relationship."
Go ahead and think for a minute about how Martel usually handles disrespect. Really. Take a second. We'll be over here.
Reply
"I agree," she says, after a short pause, "I'm not really sure how to get it to...stop, entirely, but I can take some steps, if you'd prefer."
Reply
"If anyone does it front of me, I'll break their hands." It's a little difficult to gage whether or not he's kidding right now.
Reply
Hence her asking: "...are you serious?"
Reply
Leave a comment