[5.08] "The essence of all beautiful art, all great art, is gratitude."
"Hey Jude." She's not smiling when she says it, but she can't help the one that spreads along her lips until she's grinning and he can see the tip of her bubblegum pink tongue between her teeth.
"Hey babydoll," he replies, bending over to kiss her cheek before settling across from her, stretching his long legs out so they tangle with hers under the table. "That wasn't funny the first time, love, what makes you think it's funny this time?"
She gives him a Look and he can't help smiling back at her. She's just so damn cute and she knows he's got less than zero tolerance for her brand of adorable. He grew up with her for Christ's sake; he had zero tolerance to her, in general.
He does, however, roll his eyes when 'Hey Jude' comes on the radio as she fiddles with the straw of her soda looking nothing but the picture of innocence.
He figures the innocence might just be a by-product of the fact that she's wearing a little plaid skirt and a matching sweater.
Fucking chicks, man, how is he supposed to say no to whatever she was going to ask him to do when he could feel how cold her bare legs are through the rough denim of his jeans? Oh yes, she knows how to play him and she plays him well.
She is two hundred years older than he, she's his Mrs Robinson and they both know it. They both also know he owes her more than just his life. There was no way he can say no, to anything she asks
Which, for the record? Sucks.
That sit in silence until the song ends and Jude leans forward on his elbows, managing to tear his eyes away from where she is doing things to her straw that should be reserved for porn and porn only. "What do you want?" he asks. Screw the small talk, at least while she was doing that with her tongue.
"I need an army." She says it so nonchalant it's like it isn't the end of the world. He wagers it is, but betting is a sin and he's not one to sin. He doesn't ask why though, he's not stupid, he knows why.
Instead he nods and he's glad because she gives him that smile of hers and he knows if he goes down she'll pick him back up.
"Hey babydoll," he replies, bending over to kiss her cheek before settling across from her, stretching his long legs out so they tangle with hers under the table. "That wasn't funny the first time, love, what makes you think it's funny this time?"
She gives him a Look and he can't help smiling back at her. She's just so damn cute and she knows he's got less than zero tolerance for her brand of adorable. He grew up with her for Christ's sake; he had zero tolerance to her, in general.
He does, however, roll his eyes when 'Hey Jude' comes on the radio as she fiddles with the straw of her soda looking nothing but the picture of innocence.
He figures the innocence might just be a by-product of the fact that she's wearing a little plaid skirt and a matching sweater.
Fucking chicks, man, how is he supposed to say no to whatever she was going to ask him to do when he could feel how cold her bare legs are through the rough denim of his jeans? Oh yes, she knows how to play him and she plays him well.
She is two hundred years older than he, she's his Mrs Robinson and they both know it. They both also know he owes her more than just his life. There was no way he can say no, to anything she asks
Which, for the record? Sucks.
That sit in silence until the song ends and Jude leans forward on his elbows, managing to tear his eyes away from where she is doing things to her straw that should be reserved for porn and porn only. "What do you want?" he asks. Screw the small talk, at least while she was doing that with her tongue.
"I need an army." She says it so nonchalant it's like it isn't the end of the world. He wagers it is, but betting is a sin and he's not one to sin. He doesn't ask why though, he's not stupid, he knows why.
Instead he nods and he's glad because she gives him that smile of hers and he knows if he goes down she'll pick him back up.