Another new fic! And TGIF!
Title: Procrastination.
Fandom: Count Cain.
Characters: Cain, Riff.
Prompt: 088 - School.
Word Count: 208.
Rating: G
Summary: Because even the most brilliant people weren't always the most responsible of children. And because Riff doesn't get paid enough.
Author's Notes/Disclaimer: Count Cain and all associated characters, settings, etc., belongs to Yuki Kaori-sensei. The only profit I make from this work of fiction is my own satisfaction and, possibly, the enjoyment of others. Look, a prompt that's not a color! I have nothing to say about this fic, except 'Poor beleaguered Riff'. :D
“Riff, how old are you?”
“…Now, sir, you know it’s not polite to ask people such personal questions.”
“But I’m not asking people, I’m asking you.”
“I am twenty-four, Master Cain, as you ought to know, for I’m only a decade-and-a-year older than you are.”
“But that is very old!”
“…”
“You must be as old as Uncle Neil!”
“No, sir.”
“How old is Uncle Neil?”
“I’m sure I don’t know, sir.”
“Wh-”
“And you are not to ask him.”
“Because it’s not polite?”
“Yes, sir.”
“But then how do you know you’re not as old as he is?”
“…Sir, are you finished with your lessons?”
“…No.”
A pause.
“Riff, did you like maths when you were in school?”
“…I fail to see how these questions are helping you finish your work, sir.”
“Are you avoiding the question, Riff?”
“Of course not, sir!”
A giggle. “You are! I suppose that’s a no, then. Which subjects did you like best, Riff?”
“…Literature, sir.”
“Why?”
“Because we read quietly. Sir.”
“Did you have a private tutor, or-?”
“Sir…”
“All right, Riff. I’ll do my work. But-” green-gold eyes reflect the lamplight with wicked humor, “when I’m done, you have to answer all my questions.”
“Of course, sir.”
END
My Little Damn Table.
Fandom: Count Cain.
Characters: Cain, Riff.
Prompt: 088 - School.
Word Count: 208.
Rating: G
Summary: Because even the most brilliant people weren't always the most responsible of children. And because Riff doesn't get paid enough.
Author's Notes/Disclaimer: Count Cain and all associated characters, settings, etc., belongs to Yuki Kaori-sensei. The only profit I make from this work of fiction is my own satisfaction and, possibly, the enjoyment of others. Look, a prompt that's not a color! I have nothing to say about this fic, except 'Poor beleaguered Riff'. :D
“Riff, how old are you?”
“…Now, sir, you know it’s not polite to ask people such personal questions.”
“But I’m not asking people, I’m asking you.”
“I am twenty-four, Master Cain, as you ought to know, for I’m only a decade-and-a-year older than you are.”
“But that is very old!”
“…”
“You must be as old as Uncle Neil!”
“No, sir.”
“How old is Uncle Neil?”
“I’m sure I don’t know, sir.”
“Wh-”
“And you are not to ask him.”
“Because it’s not polite?”
“Yes, sir.”
“But then how do you know you’re not as old as he is?”
“…Sir, are you finished with your lessons?”
“…No.”
A pause.
“Riff, did you like maths when you were in school?”
“…I fail to see how these questions are helping you finish your work, sir.”
“Are you avoiding the question, Riff?”
“Of course not, sir!”
A giggle. “You are! I suppose that’s a no, then. Which subjects did you like best, Riff?”
“…Literature, sir.”
“Why?”
“Because we read quietly. Sir.”
“Did you have a private tutor, or-?”
“Sir…”
“All right, Riff. I’ll do my work. But-” green-gold eyes reflect the lamplight with wicked humor, “when I’m done, you have to answer all my questions.”
“Of course, sir.”
END
My Little Damn Table.