more fairy tale
I love how parents take up my time and claim me selfish for sticking up for myself. Yes I'll be busy this week,t hat's why I need me time more than ever. grar.
She was surprised that she was allowed to eat with them, but then again, the Flannagan's weren't the most conventional family in the neighborhood. Betsy took off for home as soon as the food was dished out but apparently attendance for her was part of her rehabilitation. Or Adriane hoped to get more of a story out of her. Either way, she was just relieved that she hadn't burned anything and that no one had caught food poisoning yet.
It was odd that they seemed more relaxed with each other than even her family ever had. There wasn't much talk of work, save Adriane's questioning of Hunter's pieces in a recent exhibit. In her own house, there had been a stifling, pristine quality, as if everyone was still in the spotlight once the doors shut. None of that here. None of them fit any kind of mold, and she was too amused by Mr. Flannagan to think on it much. Surprisingly, he wasn't what she had expected at all, was nothing like her father. He was fairy tall, but stout and built, his greying hair tied in a low ponytail like some executive hippy, or a reincarnated Celtic warrior. The Irish accent helped put things into perspective. She could see why Adriane had become entranced with him...he could make telling about his day at the office seem like an epic poem.
"Well I can see Betsy's got herself a protege," he commented around a mouthful of beef. "I have t' hand it to ya, Al, you make a mean roast," he praised and she felt herself flush, relieved that she had done something right. Adriane nodded in agreement, but kept silent, too amused at watching her husband try to calm the new acquisition. "An' after all, if a woman can do things like cook well, it makes up for any other shortcomings!" he chuckled, and she tensed at a slightly choked noise from the other end of the table.
"Like laundry," a low voice mumbled and she knew she was blushing all the way to her ears. The fingers tightened around her fork as she shot a glare up to Hunter. He was innocently toying with his salad, not evening looking in her direction, though he wore that damn fraternal smirk.
/Go up and crawl on his lap, beat it right off of him!/ wolf urged. /Some men appreciate being straightforward./ She inhaled as she was taking a drink of water, and fought not to spew across the table as she coughed behind her napkin.
"Are you alright??" Adriane asked, pushing out of her chair, startled. She tried to say she was fine, couldn't get the word out, held up a hand.
/Hurry, inhale some food really quick, maybe he'll have to do heimlich, or even mouth to mouth-/
/YOU ARE NOT HELPING!!!/ she snarled at herself, nearly ready to make a coat out of the damned thing.
"Just take a slow drink," Mrs. Flannagan was murmuring, patting her lightly on the back as she hovered above her.
"She's fine, Adriane, it just went down the wrong pipe, didn't it girl?" Mr. Flannagan chuckled, then shot a look at Hunter. "Don't pay any attention to that smart ass, you'll grow used to it. Just remember this is coming from the same man who paid to have holes punched into his skull, and in only one ear no less!" he snorted, reaching over to lightly cuff his son's head, pushing the hair back to reveal the various piercings. For whatever reason, maybe it was because she had never really looked closely at a man with such accessories, or maybe because Hunter just had nice ears, it only sent her temperature rising more. She expected the two to get into some kind of fight or something, but Hunter merely rolled his eyes and brandished his fork.
"No touching the hair, okay? Besides, I'm not the one that has a tattoo of Marilyn Monroe on his-"
"That's different. The woman was a genius," the older man sniffed, going back to his meal. Adriane looked up and grinned slightly.
"You'll get used to them," she assured Alley. "And if anything makes you uncomfortable, just let me know, okay?" she murmured and the girl nodded, finally able to clear her throat.
"I'm fine...I'd better start taking care of these," she breathed, her voice still weak as she jumped from the table and started gathering the empty dishes. She was fine until she came to his end of the table.
/Go on..spill something on his lap, then you can help mop it up! Spontaneous foreplay!/
"That's not even funny," she muttered through clenched teeth.
"What?" Hunter asked, frowning slightly as he handed her his plate.
"Nothing," she muttered, shaking her head.
"No, what is it? If you got off a good crack on my boy I want to hear it so I can make fun of him later," Mr. Flannagan laughed, and she flushed as Hunter leaned back in his chair, raising a jet eyebrow as he crossed those damn distracting arms over that equally distracting chest. She couldn't think with him presented like that, could only feel herself turning colors and twitch at that damn look of bravado coming over his face...She frowned, and for once it seemed that her scrutiny of what she could probably deem as perfection came in useful.
"What's that?" she muttered, nodding to a clump of hair that seemed to stick together in a clump amid the rest of the fine plumage. He blinked, his fingertips instantly going to the exact area, and she didn't miss his slight blanch.
"What're ye talkin' bout?" Mr. Flannagan asked, leaning towards his son.
"It's nothing..just a little accident while working on a piece," he sighed, twisting the bit round a finger. "Was using a turpentine solution on something and it got in the hair, discolored it," he sighed.
"Oh, yer art messed up yer pretty boy dye job?" the father figure mused, smirking slightly. Hunter narrowed his eyes.
"This is natural and you know it! I just didn't like one bit being different so...I painted it," he muttered and Alley felt the laughter tense in her chest even as Mr. Flannagan burst out in a loud guffaw.
"My son, the artist, going to the best school and working at a gallery all so he can paint his 'do!" he roared as Adriane sat there, covering the smirk with a hand. Alley couldn't fight her own snickers and triumphant expression. He glared slightly as he glanced up at he.
"It wasn't my fault, the shit fucked it up!" he snarled, a sudden slight sadistic look glittering deep in the sapphire. "Oh sorry, didn't mean to use language in front of the kid," he shot out, and she nearly jumped back, struck by the invisible blow. Before she could dig herself deeper, she took the rest of the dishes and headed out of the room, not listening to the rest of the conversation around her.
She was surprised that she was allowed to eat with them, but then again, the Flannagan's weren't the most conventional family in the neighborhood. Betsy took off for home as soon as the food was dished out but apparently attendance for her was part of her rehabilitation. Or Adriane hoped to get more of a story out of her. Either way, she was just relieved that she hadn't burned anything and that no one had caught food poisoning yet.
It was odd that they seemed more relaxed with each other than even her family ever had. There wasn't much talk of work, save Adriane's questioning of Hunter's pieces in a recent exhibit. In her own house, there had been a stifling, pristine quality, as if everyone was still in the spotlight once the doors shut. None of that here. None of them fit any kind of mold, and she was too amused by Mr. Flannagan to think on it much. Surprisingly, he wasn't what she had expected at all, was nothing like her father. He was fairy tall, but stout and built, his greying hair tied in a low ponytail like some executive hippy, or a reincarnated Celtic warrior. The Irish accent helped put things into perspective. She could see why Adriane had become entranced with him...he could make telling about his day at the office seem like an epic poem.
"Well I can see Betsy's got herself a protege," he commented around a mouthful of beef. "I have t' hand it to ya, Al, you make a mean roast," he praised and she felt herself flush, relieved that she had done something right. Adriane nodded in agreement, but kept silent, too amused at watching her husband try to calm the new acquisition. "An' after all, if a woman can do things like cook well, it makes up for any other shortcomings!" he chuckled, and she tensed at a slightly choked noise from the other end of the table.
"Like laundry," a low voice mumbled and she knew she was blushing all the way to her ears. The fingers tightened around her fork as she shot a glare up to Hunter. He was innocently toying with his salad, not evening looking in her direction, though he wore that damn fraternal smirk.
/Go up and crawl on his lap, beat it right off of him!/ wolf urged. /Some men appreciate being straightforward./ She inhaled as she was taking a drink of water, and fought not to spew across the table as she coughed behind her napkin.
"Are you alright??" Adriane asked, pushing out of her chair, startled. She tried to say she was fine, couldn't get the word out, held up a hand.
/Hurry, inhale some food really quick, maybe he'll have to do heimlich, or even mouth to mouth-/
/YOU ARE NOT HELPING!!!/ she snarled at herself, nearly ready to make a coat out of the damned thing.
"Just take a slow drink," Mrs. Flannagan was murmuring, patting her lightly on the back as she hovered above her.
"She's fine, Adriane, it just went down the wrong pipe, didn't it girl?" Mr. Flannagan chuckled, then shot a look at Hunter. "Don't pay any attention to that smart ass, you'll grow used to it. Just remember this is coming from the same man who paid to have holes punched into his skull, and in only one ear no less!" he snorted, reaching over to lightly cuff his son's head, pushing the hair back to reveal the various piercings. For whatever reason, maybe it was because she had never really looked closely at a man with such accessories, or maybe because Hunter just had nice ears, it only sent her temperature rising more. She expected the two to get into some kind of fight or something, but Hunter merely rolled his eyes and brandished his fork.
"No touching the hair, okay? Besides, I'm not the one that has a tattoo of Marilyn Monroe on his-"
"That's different. The woman was a genius," the older man sniffed, going back to his meal. Adriane looked up and grinned slightly.
"You'll get used to them," she assured Alley. "And if anything makes you uncomfortable, just let me know, okay?" she murmured and the girl nodded, finally able to clear her throat.
"I'm fine...I'd better start taking care of these," she breathed, her voice still weak as she jumped from the table and started gathering the empty dishes. She was fine until she came to his end of the table.
/Go on..spill something on his lap, then you can help mop it up! Spontaneous foreplay!/
"That's not even funny," she muttered through clenched teeth.
"What?" Hunter asked, frowning slightly as he handed her his plate.
"Nothing," she muttered, shaking her head.
"No, what is it? If you got off a good crack on my boy I want to hear it so I can make fun of him later," Mr. Flannagan laughed, and she flushed as Hunter leaned back in his chair, raising a jet eyebrow as he crossed those damn distracting arms over that equally distracting chest. She couldn't think with him presented like that, could only feel herself turning colors and twitch at that damn look of bravado coming over his face...She frowned, and for once it seemed that her scrutiny of what she could probably deem as perfection came in useful.
"What's that?" she muttered, nodding to a clump of hair that seemed to stick together in a clump amid the rest of the fine plumage. He blinked, his fingertips instantly going to the exact area, and she didn't miss his slight blanch.
"What're ye talkin' bout?" Mr. Flannagan asked, leaning towards his son.
"It's nothing..just a little accident while working on a piece," he sighed, twisting the bit round a finger. "Was using a turpentine solution on something and it got in the hair, discolored it," he sighed.
"Oh, yer art messed up yer pretty boy dye job?" the father figure mused, smirking slightly. Hunter narrowed his eyes.
"This is natural and you know it! I just didn't like one bit being different so...I painted it," he muttered and Alley felt the laughter tense in her chest even as Mr. Flannagan burst out in a loud guffaw.
"My son, the artist, going to the best school and working at a gallery all so he can paint his 'do!" he roared as Adriane sat there, covering the smirk with a hand. Alley couldn't fight her own snickers and triumphant expression. He glared slightly as he glanced up at he.
"It wasn't my fault, the shit fucked it up!" he snarled, a sudden slight sadistic look glittering deep in the sapphire. "Oh sorry, didn't mean to use language in front of the kid," he shot out, and she nearly jumped back, struck by the invisible blow. Before she could dig herself deeper, she took the rest of the dishes and headed out of the room, not listening to the rest of the conversation around her.